


Emerald

by ShepherdSoreyDidNothingWrong (Sagnessagiel)



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: AU, Adventure, Angst, Blood, Character Death, Excited nerds exploring ruins, Injury, Lightning Seraph Sorey, M/M, Role Reversal, Shepherd Mikleo, Shepherd Swap, some gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2018-09-02 00:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8644126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sagnessagiel/pseuds/ShepherdSoreyDidNothingWrong
Summary: Mikleo grew up in Elysia with the seraphim, raised with his best friend Sorey on stories of the era of Asgard and the shepherds. He is cut off from the human world. At least, until a strange girl appears in the ruins close to his home. AU of Tales of Zestiria, if Mikleo was the shepherd and Sorey was the seraph.





	1. The Ruins of Mount Mabinogio

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Amethyst](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8634871) by [ParzivalHallows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParzivalHallows/pseuds/ParzivalHallows). 



> This AU is a collaboration with ParzivalHallows. If you want to read chronologically, check out her work "Amethyst" first!

"Mikleo, come on!"

Sorey has a firm grip on his arm. They are moving quickly through this part of the ruin, having seen it many times before. Sorey seems eager, which is probably because they will be late for dinner soon. He wants to see as much as he can. Mikleo understands that perfectly.

The Mount Mabinogio ruins act as their playground on most days. They spend hours exploring and poking at the ancient walls and mechanisms they can find. A lot of the time, Mikleo has some trouble keeping up, because Sorey has a tendency to get excited. Being a seraph, he possesses more stamina than Mikleo does. This is starting to become one of those times.

"We haven't been down this path yet," Sorey exclaims, and Mikleo finds himself making a sharp turn down a set of stone stairs. He stumbles and almost falls, but Sorey stops very briefly to haul him up onto his feet. Then they are off again, and Mikleo has no say in it.

"Sorey, you're going to get one of us hurt," Mikleo insists. "Slow down."

"We're almost down now," Sorey replies, and he turns back to flash a bright smile at Mikleo. He does slow down somewhat, though. Mikleo smirks behind him.

He does not shy away from playing the human card when Sorey gets too excited. He learned that skill a long time ago.

They come to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, and Sorey lets go of Mikleo's arm to immediately take off. He puts both hands to a finely decorated wall, tracing the carvings with his fingers.

Visiting Mount Mabinogio throughout their entire childhood has taught them the very important lesson that things are rarely what they seem at first sight when it comes to ruins. They often fall into an easy routine of searching together which does not require much talking. Mikleo joins in on feeling the walls, and soon they have scoped out the near area. It seems that although the carvings are intricate and interesting, they serve as nothing more than decoration.

"Find anything?" Sorey asks. Mikleo tells him no. He puts a hand to his chin, contemplating the situation.

"Let's move on a little bit," he says. He walks on down the hall and Mikleo falls easily into step with him.

"What exactly are we looking for here?" Mikleo asks, because he is tired and Sorey has yet to tell him why he is so eager to go here. He simply told him it was going to be a surprise.

"You'll see," Sorey says and smiles at him. That gentle sweet smile that is so utterly disarming. He looks a little bit concerned, noting the fatigued stumble to Mikleo's steps. He puts a hand on his arm and links their hands together, and his eyes are gently supportive. Mikleo turns away and pretends to be very interested in the wall carvings they pass on the way. It soon turns into the truth and he finds some very fascinating carvings to focus on. A long ridge in the stone follows them all throughout the hallway, making him wonder what its significance could be.

They walk at his pace, he notices, Sorey adjusting to his speed easily. Mikleo is silently grateful.

Further down, their steps slow as they come upon an ornate arch which ends the walls of the hallway. Beyond it is what seems to be a ballroom, an open and wide space. It is dark almost all the way through, because at this deep level in the ruins there is little sunlight to draw from. Cracks in the floor let in some light, but not enough to ensure that they see everything that they want to see. The far wall is shrouded in complete darkness, and the wall murals on both sides become swallowed by it halfway through.

Even so, it is clearly an exquisite room. The walls reach the ceiling far above their heads, and the cracks in the walls which let in sunlight illuminate it just enough to hint at more gracefully depicted art above them. A carving of a gathering of people hosting some sort of celebration stands to their right, dwarfing them in scale. To their left is a depiction of a powerful seraph (they can see the swirly pattern on the figures robe even at a distance) receiving tribute from others in a sanctuary.

The room is so large that it reaches throughout two floors. They can see the fenced in balcony above their heads which acts as a hallway to a number of other hallways and spaces. A treasure trove of potential for new exploration.

They stand in the arch and just stare for a long few moments, awed. Then Sorey grasps Mikleo's sleeve and tugs.

"Look," he says and points. His grin is wide.

Mikleo looks to where Sorey is pointing. Straight upwards, he sees it in the darkness. A little ledge, barely a shelf, far above their heads in the room.

Mikleo does not like he looks of this. Neither does he the smirk Sorey gives him when he looks back at him. Mikleo takes a step back when Sorey advances on him.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Sorey looks mischievous, delighted at the plan he has in mind.

"Come on," he says. "I have it under control. Gramps taught me how to do it."

"I don't trust you," Mikleo says, and takes another step backwards. Sorey rolls his eyes.

"Yes you do. Now come here." He advances the final step and gets a grip on Mikleo's tunic. He reels him in by the cloth and wraps a warm hand around Mikleo's opposite hip, pulling him in close and pressing them together.

"I promise I won't drop you," he whispers, his face really close to Mikleo's. Mikleo hopes the dimness of the room is enough to cover the blush he can feel rising in his cheeks.

They walk back to where they line up with the stone shelf. Mikleo has all sorts of bad feeling about this. Sorey gets a firmer grip, making Mikleo squeak in surprise, and then Mikleo yelps as Sorey makes a strong leap into the air. He does know how to do it. Mikleo knows as much, but it does not mean he has to like it. The jump is far higher than Mikleo could hope to achieve, being human himself. When they get close enough, Sorey latches onto the stone ledge with his free hand.

Their knees collide with the stone, and Mikleo grunts with the impact. He reaches to grab the ledge too and pulls himself up and out of Sorey's grip. Then he reaches down to pull Sorey up too. They sit on the edge and brush off their now dusty clothing. There does not seem to have been any movement which could disturb the thick layer of dust settled here for a number of years.

Sorey turns around and looks at the small space, taking in the grimy wall the ledge attaches to. He crawls on his hands and knees, as the ledge seems a little unsteady. They do not want to unsettle it, as Mikleo would not be able to manage the fall on his own. Once again he traces the walls with light touches, coating his fingers in a fine layer of dust and dirt. He cares very little if he gets dirty, unlike Mikleo who feels uncomfortable in such a state. Mikleo is always the one to insist on the two of them bathe after returning from ruin exploration. He always feels better after that.

Mikleo sits on the edge of the shelf and watches him. He feels a little too tired now to help out anymore, and he decides that he will insist on going back after this particular exploration. Sorey cares for him a great deal, but he can forget sometimes just how much more strength and stamina he has. Mikleo does not like being the one to halt their little expeditions, and so he only does it when he feels that he really has to.

As Sorey searches, Mikleo looks out over the room. From this height, he thinks he could see the entirety of it should there be enough light. It seems strategically placed, centred. He wonders what its purpose was back when it was first built.

"Yes!" Sorey exclaims behind him. Mikleo looks back to see him eagerly wiping dust from a patch of wall, gradually revealing a small square plate protruding from the stone. It is not stone like the rest of the wall. Mikleo instantly recognises it as smoothed down copper.

His heart rate picks up, matching Sorey's excitement. They know what that is. They have seen it before, in other parts of the ruins.

"Nice," Mikleo says and scrambles to crawl to his side. They brush off the rest of the metal plate together, all reservations about dirt forgotten.

"What do you think it connects to?" Sorey asks, grinning wide at him. Mikleo shrugs.

"Only one way to find out," he says. He sits back to allow Sorey some room and grins back. His exhaustion has given way to childish excitement.

Sorey makes a show of cracking his knuckles. It makes Mikleo roll his eyes. Then he puts one hand over the copper plate, resting it there lightly. Mikleo watches in fascination as his hand crackles with lightning, conducting it and guiding it into the copper plate. He charges it for a good few seconds. Then they sit back and listen intently, hoping to hear whatever mechanism they may have activated just then. Chances are it is in another part of the ruins.

A sudden flash of light shocks them into yelping and covering their eyes. Mikleo blinks rapidly as his vision blurs. When he looks up again, his mouth falls open in surprise.

The room around them is now bright and visible, light gushing in patterns from familiar ridges in the walls. The glow shapes into beautiful patterns which highlight the murals all around them, making them look even more extravagant. It is a beautiful sight.

"Whoa..." Sorey crawls up next to him and sits there. They watch it for a few seconds, drinking in the beautiful intricate artwork and considering the elaborate seraphic artes it must have taken to create it. The placement of this particular ledge makes a lot of sense now, in the sense that they can see the room in its entirety and with some beautiful angles to see the details of the characters around them. Above their heads in the ceiling they can see an image of a man holding up a sword high above his head, surrounded by other people. He is dressed in a long cape, the patterns on it carefully and lovingly carved. Sorey's breath hitches.

"A shepherd," he says reverently. Mikleo stares at it with wide eyes.

The legend of the shepherds is everywhere in these ruins. Human beings who could see the seraphim and use their powers as though they were their own. People with the strength and influence to unite two entire worlds.

Mikleo feels inexplicably small. His shoulders droop a little bit and he hunches in on himself. Faced with such grand depictions of people who could connect the seraphim to humans, he feels woefully inadequate in comparison.

Sorey told him once that he loved the idea of the human world and the seraphim blending like in the Celestial Record. Mikleo agreed with him that it would be an incredible thing to witness. However, privately he feels unsure whether it is really that important for them specifically to see it done. Sorey is so fascinated with the human world. Mikleo is too. However, he cannot help but feel a little bit like he is not enough for Sorey because of this. Whether or not Sorey is beginning to tire of him, and whether he wants to meet more people to spend his time with.

It is a ridiculous thought, and Mikleo can keep it out of his head reliably most of the time. It just becomes difficult when Sorey looks so awed and happy at the sight of a mural depicting something Mikleo could never be.

It is becoming difficult to keep the negative thoughts away. However he is distracted when Sorey suddenly grabs his arm and shakes him a little bit, rattling him out of his reverie.

"Mikleo, look!" He points down to the floor, towards the previously dark far end of the room. Mikleo scans the far wall, and finds another mural, but something is different about this one. The wall holds artfully scattered images of seraphim engaged in a graceful dance. Their elements follow their movements in ways that line them up perfectly with each other. They are dressed in long beautiful robes that flow with them in artificial movement. All of them seem to line up towards the middle, highlighting a long deep ridge which cuts the wall perfectly in half. At the bottom of it is a strange box-like thing, closed with what looks like metal bars.

A small bulb on top of the box lights up just as Mikleo spots it. He can hear the sound of what seems to be a small bell ringing once, far down there.

"What do you think it is?" Sorey asks. They have never seen such a thing anywhere else in the ruins. In fact, this may be the most whole and preserved area they have ever found.

Mikleo bites his lip, intrigued. He looks at Sorey and smiles, all traces of his exhaustion wiped away by a renewed sense of curiosity.

"Only one way to find out," he reiterates. Sorey chuckles.

They move in sync, as they have throughout their entire childhood. Mikleo crawls onto Sorey's lap without a second thought and Sorey hooks his arms under Mikleo's back and knees. Mikleo wraps his arms around Sorey's neck, holding on tight. Sorey drops off the ledge and Mikleo gasps with the sudden rush of air around them. They land as light as a leaf on the ground; another trick Gramps has spent extra time teaching Sorey with great care. He knows how reckless the two can get while exploring, and teaching them to protect themselves is the best bet he has of protecting them.

They race to the other end of the room. Mikleo even almost wins. They laugh too much for it to be a real competition, elated at what may be their greatest discovery yet.

They come to a stop and marvel at it up close, trying to gauge what it is. The box is taller than them, wide enough for two people to enter side by side. Sorey grips the metal bars and tugs, testing their resilience. To their surprise, they swing open easily, creaking with the motion.

Sorey stumbles back a little bit. They look at each other for only a moment, understanding between them, before they enter it together.

It is very dusty inside, with cobwebs and dirt everywhere they step. It is not a large space, merely enough to hold a couple more people. The walls inside are plain grey, with faint outlines of smaller carvings which seem significantly worn.

"Look, here," Mikleo says and points to a small hole in the left wall. It is just a slight crease in the stone, deep enough to put a couple of fingers in and covered in cobwebs to the point where it is almost invisible. He walks up and sweeps it out with his fingers.

The hole is framed by a carving that looks like a panel set around it. Inside, he feels cold smooth metal. Another copper plate.

"Sorey, can you start this for me?" he asks.

Sorey walks up next to him and feels for the plate in the hole. It sparks with light as he activates it. Next to them, the door swings shut.

They rear back, prepared for a trap, but nothing comes at them. Instead there is a soft whirring hum as some machinery or other comes to life around them. The panel around the hole lights up, illuminating the space and revealing an arranged set of symbols all over it.

"It's writing," Mikleo says, utterly fascinated. He walks up to the panel and sweeps a hand over the dusty wall, revealing it further.

The panel reacts to his touch, and the symbols he brushes over begin to glow. They pulse with soft blue light, and suddenly the box is moving. It jolts to life, shaking them and making them stumble. They yelp and grab onto each other, bracing themselves against the walls.

"Be ready," Mikleo says. Sorey nods.

The box rises from the ground with a hum and slides up the ridge, raising them far into the air. It stops as suddenly as it started, and the bars open before them with a soft creak. They wait, ready for anything else that might happen.

One of the symbols on the panel flickers out and goes dark. The others remain softly pulsing. Four symbols are glowing now, with two more with the potential to light up the same way.

Sorey takes a hesitant step out of the box. Outside is the fenced catwalk they saw from above. It has a hole in it large enough to let the box through, but otherwise it is solid stone. It leads to a number of doors on both sides.

"This is amazing," Sorey says quietly. He looks at Mikleo with wide eyes.

"It's a transport mechanism," he says. Mikleo smiles. The thrill of making a new discovery is setting off butterflies in his stomach.

Then Sorey decides to step back inside and make it worse by picking Mikleo up and spinning them around in delight. Mikleo's laugh feels too light, too open, and he reaches up to cover his mouth rather than pry at Sorey's hands.

"Put me down you idiot," he chuckles. Sorey pulls him in close and gives him a messy kiss on the cheek.

"You love it," he insists. Mikleo has no other reply to that than sticking his tongue out.

Sorey pulls the bars shut again and the box comes to life once more. It continues to move upwards, taking them up towards another hole in the ceiling. It seems to lead into another higher room.

"Was this what you wanted to show me?" Mikleo asks, because he is not sure he would put it past Sorey to find this place on their own during the races they have once in a while to make the best discoveries. Sorey's smile is excited.

"I found the staircase and the hallway," he admits, shrugging one shoulder. "Didn't go any further than that."

"Well, I'm glad that you didn't," Mikleo says teasingly. "If you had found this on your own, you'd never have let me live it down."

"I'll be sure to continue on my own next time then," Sorey says, laughing. Mikleo does not believe him for a second.

"How far up do you think it goes?" he asks, looking through the bars to the carved ceiling, slowly coming closer. Sorey slings an arm around his shoulder. They watch the image of the shepherd, flipped and more difficult to see from this side of the room.

"Only one way to find out," he says. Mikleo nods, encouraged.

They will definitely be late for dinner.


	2. The Human Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My text editor sometimes likes to pretend I didn't really press a button or two. Tell me if you see any typos.

It turns out that the box goes almost all the way up to the top part of the ruins. It stops just shy of it. They take the mechanism the whole way up, then the whole way down again just to be able to take one floor at a time and make sure they see as much as they can. They give each floor a cursory look around, exploring only the rooms closest to the mechanism. As exciting as it is to be able to reach so many areas of the ruins, they do not want to be late enough to go home in the middle of the night.

Gramps would kill them, not to mention Medea. They would rather not risk it.

On the third floor they visit, Sorey suddenly ducks into a small unfamiliar space in a hallway and disappears for a few seconds from view. When Mikleo catches up with him, he is elbow deep in an old rotted chest. Mikleo rears back a little bit, concerned with just how rundown it looks. Sorey scoops out a few tattered remains of clothing, things that have long since given in to rot. He rummages through the bottom scraps. When he resurfaces, he is holding something small and white, examining it up close.

Mikleo sits down next to him and suddenly Sorey has pushed into his hands. Mikleo accepts it on reflex, holding it carefully between thumb and forefinger. He looks it over for any visible signs of mold.

There are none. He turns over the cloth to see what it is, finds the unmistakable shape of a glove. It is white, fingerless, with some beads attached to it on a string. They make a pretty composition, bright blue and shiny. They look like sapphires, refined and smoothed through seraphic artes long since lost.

"Do you think it's authentic?" Sorey asks, leaning eagerly over his shoulder as he inspects it. Mikleo shrugs, and his shoulder bumps Sorey's chin lightly.

"I don't know. It might be."

The glove seems to be turned inside out, the seams of it clearly visible. They look closely at the delicate handiwork, perfectly done with not a thread out of place. This was an expensive and important relic, they can already tell. It only becomes more clear when Mikleo turns it out the right way and they are met with a familiar symbol stamped in what looks like gold pigment on the outside of it. Sorey gasps softly beside his ear.

"The mark of the Shepherd," Mikleo mumbles, smoothing out the wrinkled material. It is perfectly preserved, beautifully stitched and dyed. Mikleo traces the mark with his thumb. He can almost imagine that it hums with energy. If nothing else, then with sentiment. This glove must have seen quite a few battles if it is as authentic as they wish it to be.

"Well?" Sorey asks. Mikleo looks at him, confused.

"Put it on," Sorey urges. He is smiling softly. Mikleo draws in a surprised breath, wholly unsure what he could reply with that would not betray his own insecurity. He blinks, thinks quickly.

"No way," he chuckles, and hopes it looks believable. "This thing has been lying here for centuries, maybe even millennia. Who knows what kind of decay it's been exposed to."

He nods meaningfully towards the tattered cloth scattered around them. Sorey pouts, his lower lip sticking out in a way that means Mikleo has succeeded in establishing a joking atmosphere. He is silently grateful for that.

"Fine. I'll take it then." He gently tugs it out of Mikleo's grip. It disappears into the folds of his tunic and he stands up again, brushing off his now dusty pants.

"Let's go up to the last level," he says and offers Mikleo a hand. Mikleo smiles and accepts it.

* * *

It appears when they arrive upstairs that their new finds will not be the only surprises they encounter that day. For one, they arrive at the last floor to find the way out of the mechanism blocked by a set of very thick cobwebs that stick to their hands when they try to tear it. Sorey ends up having to cut it loose with his sword, which he keeps in a sheath on his belt. When they step outside, they find a hallway which they do not recognise.

"This way," Mikleo says and points towards the end that has some light towards the end of it. As they walk, a sudden loud noise from outside surprises them and causes them to stop in their tracks.

Sorey looks at Mikleo, and Mikleo looks back. The sound is familiar. There is an understanding between them.

The sky outside was clear when they went inside the ruins. The crack of thunder outside is very telling to the trained ear.

"Do you think he's mad at us?" Sorey asks, looking apprehensively up a the ceiling.

Mikleo listens intently. The thunder outside is quite loud. More so than they would expect from a minor outburst. It will not be the first time the two of them come home late.

"No, I don't think so." Mikleo looks at him very seriously. "I think something might be wrong."

Sorey looks worried, glancing between Mikleo and the ceiling. The ruins shake beneath their feet.

"We should get back," Mikleo says. He waves for Sorey to come along. "Come on."

They break into a jog, now more urgently interested in vacating the unstable structure. At the end of the hallway is a large open area, encompassing two full levels. They walk out onto a fenced catwalk that runs along the wall. Down below them they can see an open space split into two and separated by a dark chasm.

"There," Sorey says and points, and Mikleo follows him to a crumpled heap of stone and gravel. They climb it with some difficulty and hop off on the other side.

They find themselves on a ledge with no visible way down. It gives them considerable pause.

"It looks destroyed from here on," Sorey mumbles. He tugs on Mikleo's sleeve and they walk out to the edge just above the chasm. It is some distance down to the other level.

"We could make that jump," Sorey mutters. Mikleo takes a step back.

"No way. I'm not letting you risk that."

Sorey turns around and looks at him with pleading eyes.

"Come on, Mikleo. We don't have time to look for another way out. If we-"

He stops talking as Mikleo interrupts him with a gasp, his eyes widening. Mikleo looks behind Sorey and gapes. Sorey freezes up, terrified.

"What is it?" He turns around and looks out over the chasm. He is expecting some sort of danger. Few things rattle Mikleo unless it is serious. "What?"

Mikleo does not have time to answer him before he sees it. At the lower level, crumpled and partially buried under a heap of rocks and dust, lies the unmistakable shape of a person. It looks to be a girl. An unconscious one.

The boys fall silent at the sight, the noise from outside momentarily forgotten. The two of them have never seen such a thing before. They stare in horrified fascination.

It takes a moment of comprehension before Sorey speaks.

"Do you think she's alive?"

Mikleo knows that tone. He has heard it hundreds of times before. It is the tone Sorey uses when he has found something new, when the curiosity for the unknown overrules any other self preservative instinct. Mikleo knows what his next question is going to be.

In a moment of clarity, Mikleo makes a quick decision.

"No," he says, and his tone is firm. "We are not going down there. There has to be some other way out of here."

Sorey turns on him, his whole posture that of one prepared to argue. Mikleo braces himself.

"We can't just leave her there," Sorey says firmly.

"She's not our business," Mikleo replies. "She looks to be dead, and we shouldn't go near anything like that alone. Besides," he gestures very generally. "We can't get over there to anyway."

"She might be alive, and just hurt." Sorey is obviously appraising the distance with his eyes. He thinks he can make it, Mikleo is sure. "Say she dies here and we didn't do anything to help?"

He looks at Mikleo with wide eyes. He is right, and it irritates Mikleo to no end.

The thunder continues to crash outside. They can hear the rain begin to follow it, an unusual lateness to it that cements the influence of seraphic artes. Gramps may be even angrier than they anticipated.

Mikleo knows he has lost the argument. He opens his mouth to concede defeat and begin working on a plan, but a sudden new sound above their heads makes him stop. He looks up at the dark ceiling. He cannot see all the way up.

"What was...?" Sorey looks up as well. They can no longer hear it, but it was clearly some sort of shuffling across the stone far above them. Mikleo swallows, worried.

"Sorey," he says cautiously, his eyes remaining upward. "Summon my staff."

Sorey nods silently. With a flick of his hand, he brings into existence a long wooden staff with a carved tip. It is of seraphic origin, yet Sorey hands it over to Mikleo without a thought. Mikleo swings it expertly down to his side.

They wait warily for anything that might creep down from above. They have seen animals in the ruins before, and most of them are harmless, but the risk is not worth taking. The moment stretches out, punctuated by the rain.

Suddenly Mikleo sees it. A large imposing shadow dropping down from the ceiling close to them and landing expertly on light footing. Eight nimble legs stretch out to soften its landing, and the dark bulbous body dips almost to the ground, only to spring back up in a threatening stance. Mikleo's breath catches in his throat.

The monster is large, far larger than any normal spider he has ever seen. It looks like something awful right out of a horrible nightmare, its eight red eyes fixated on them with a terrifying focus. It twitches as it creeps closer, inch by inch, bracing and coiling like a spring. It means to attack.

"Wha-" Sorey says, and they stumble back in shock. The creature is horrible, far more so than anything they have encountered before. The animals of the outside cliffs and forests do not hold a candle to its obvious threat.

"It's..." Mikleo can hardly believe it. He cannot even form the word. Sorey does it for him.

"A hellion."

They remember vividly the first time they were informed of the existence of hellions. Horrible beasts born out of the human world's malevolence. Dark, insidious feelings given flesh and power, set free to roam the world and destroy anything in their path.

Mikleo remembers Sorey's big eyes and his worry when they found out about these creatures. He remembers Gramps reassuring them and telling them that as long as they stayed in his domain, everything would be fine. Seraphim do not produce malevolence. They can only perpetuate it, but not if it is not there to begin with. These horrible creatures, he claimed, would never show their faces in Elysia.

Said faces, it turns out, are even more horrible than he imagined them to be at the time. A spider's body language is a foreign, unsettling thing on its own. At such extreme size, paired with a fully visible set of shiny red eyes and menacing fangs as large as his fingers, it proves truly terrifying. A dark aura hovers around it, highlighting just how otherworldly it looks.

Sorey takes a step to the side, partially shielding Mikleo with his body. His sword is in a firm grip, aimed securely at the hellion. The monster twitches, skulks ever closer.

They are trapped with nowhere to go but through the hellion or down a deep chasm. Mikleo is not as confident in Sorey's jumping skills as Sorey is, though it is not so much lack of faith as a high number of failed attempts he has seen. There is a reason Mikleo very rarely lets Sorey pick him up to do it.

Faced with few other options, Mikleo prepares for a fight. He waits until the hellion is close enough for Sorey's range, and then waits for his signal. Sorey is in front of him, so he has earned the honour of first strike. Mikleo hopes that it will not be his last.

The creature suddenly advances, quick and nimble as all spiders are. Mikleo flinches as it snaps at Sorey, and it gets a nip of his sword as he desperately parries it. It is heavy. That much is evident from Sorey's straining push to bring it back into fighting range.

Sorey strikes hard and fast. True to his element, he moves quickly and puts a lot of energy into it. He brings his sword down with a shout upon the hellion's head, and it does not have enough time to dodge him. Lightning crackles and flashes, and the creature gives a howl as it backs up a few more steps. Mikleo is ready, covering Sorey's side and pushing past him just as he knows to do.

In Elysia, a lot of their childhood together was spent sparring with each other in the grassy meadows. Wooden swords and staves which would not damage them (too much) became their best playmates as they learned from the experienced seraphim of the village just how to wield their statures and skills to their best advantages.

Now that training comes to its fruition. Mikleo strikes from the side, so that his staff impacts on the hellion's hard jaw. It rears back and screeches, and Mikleo's blood runs cold with the sound.

Mikleo wastes no time, swinging the staff up once more and bringing it down with an impressive amount of force on the hellion's head.

It raises a leg and parries him. The staff comes to a stop just above it, and then Mikleo is flying backwards as it roughly shoves him.

His chest squeezes with fear. He comes close to falling off the ledge completely, but then Sorey's arm wraps around his waist and Sorey hauls him forcibly back. Mikleo breathes shallowly, but his hands are steady and his body is poised for another lunge.

"Thanks," he says breathlessly.

"No problem. How do we get out of here?" Sorey is panicking, but his grip is strong.

"We need a diversion. If you push through and-"

Mikleo does not have time to finish as the hellion leaps at them, jaws snapping. Both boys react quickly, raising their weapons to block it. Sorey's sword comes first, stopping a sharp set of mandible claws inches from their faces. Mikleo's staff then parries two flailing legs.

Together, they push the hellion off so that it backs up again. In the process they get ever closer to the edge. They are running out of options.

"New plan. Are you sure you can make the jump?"

Sorey looks at him with a new vigour. "Positive."

"Then you have my permission."

Mikleo keeps up their guard while Sorey turns around and judges the distance.

"Don't kill us," Mikleo says as he feels Sorey's arm slip around his waist.

"Do my best."

Mikleo turns on Sorey's cue and lets Sorey sweep up his legs. Sorey coils on the edge and springs into the air with Mikleo in his arms. Mikleo touches his staff to the back of Sorey's hand and it flickers out of existence on cue.

Time seems to stop for a little while. Mikleo turns his head and gauges the momentum they have to judge whether or not they will make it to the other side. From what he can tell, there is an equal chance of catching the edge or falling short.

Sorey shifts Mikleo's weight until he is just holding him close, and his hand reaches out as they near the edge.

They collide with hard ground and it knocks the breath out of Mikleo, but it is not from Sorey grasping onto the ledge. Instead they lie on top of something. Something the two of them were not expecting and so they slammed into it full force. Mikleo coughs and gasps. He opens his eyes.

The chasm opens up still beneath him. They are lying in thin air.

His heart leaps into his chest.

Sorey stirs to life beside him. He coughs for a moment. Then he notices their situaton.

"What the-"

"Don't question it," Mikleo says. "Crawl."

They begin to move together, making their way across the dark pit. Mikleo can feel to his side the edge of whatever is holding them up, and he traces it with a hand as he goes, keeping them on track. It is easy to fall off something you cannot see.

On the ledge far above them, the hellion regards them coolly. After a moment of consideration it apparently deems them too much trouble and skitters off into the darkness. The boys reach the other side and scramble onto safe ground. They lie there for a long moment and just breathe.

Mikleo double checks that he cannot see the hellion across the room anymore. He finds nothing, and deems it safe enough for the moment.

"We," he pants, "are never doing that again."

Sorey makes an incoherent sound. He is as shaken up as Mikleo is. He has however not forgotten about-

"The girl!" he exclaims and sits up abruptly. She lies a small distance from them, still as the moment they saw her. They really cannot tell whether or not she is dead.

Mikleo sits up just as Sorey stands. Sorey offers him a hand and then forcefully pulls him to his feet, urging him along to go check on her. Mikleo draws in a deep breath through his nose, his worry mounting as Sorey pushes him closer by the shoulders.

Up close, they can see that she is obviously no ordinary traveler. She is wearing strategically placed armour and her hair is pinned up in a neat arrangement unfit for the trials of the mountain. Her entire form is covered in loose gravel and dust from the rock slide that, from the looks of it, brought her down into the room from above. With her eyes gently closed and her limbs sprawled in a surprisingly dainty way, she looks to simply be asleep.

The boys stop a step of two away from her. Sorey squeezes Mikleo's shoulder, almost reassuringly, before he gives a final push. Mikleo stumbles, turns for a moment to glare.

"This is your idea," he seethes. Sorey pays him no attention.

"You're the human. Try to wake her."

Mikleo huffs, but he turns and kneels by her limp form. He reaches out and, after a moment's hesitation, gently brushes fine dust from her cheek.

"Hey," he says quietly. "Wake up."

She remains unresponsive. Mikleo grasps a plated shoulder and gives it a gentle shake.

"Hello? You need to wake up now. It's not safe here."

Despite his efforts, she does not stir. Mikleo sighs.

"I knew this was a bad idea."

Sorey huffs behind him. "I don't see you coming up with a better one."

Mikleo turns to him. "I suggested we find another way out. She's not waking up, and we can't carry her the whole way down the mountain. We're not even allowed out of Gramps' domain!"

"Who said anything about that?" Sorey asks, as though the suggestion is preposterous. "We're taking her back to Elysia."

Mikleo turns around again so quickly he might have cracked something in his neck. His look is one of horror.

"We could never! Gramps would kill us!"

Sorey just looks at him in that way that is usually reasonable and confident enough to convince Mikleo. This time, however, is different.

"Sorey, she is a human. This is one of the worst ideas you've ever-"

Mikleo is suddenly interrupted by a soft groan from behind him. His eyes grow wide, and he and Sorey look at each other with new surprise. He turns around to look at the girl stirring.

A surprised yelp greets him as he turns around. He opens his mouth.

"Are you oka-"

He is sharply cut off by the sound of metal scraping against stone. He flinches back, but it is too late.

The girl is sitting up, a long weapon in her hand that Mikleo realises is some sort of ornamental spear. Her grip on it is steady, her eyes determined. The sharp blade rests in the air, an inch or two from Mikleo's exposed throat.

He knew this was a bad idea.


	3. Out of the Ruins

For a few moments, there is only stunned silence. The ambiance of the empty ruins is broken only by their breathing.

Sorey takes a cautious step forward. It echoes against the stone. Mikleo gestures very subtly for him to stop moving. He does not look back, but he can sense Sorey coming to stand still behind him.

The gesture pulls slightly at muscles he used to catch himself falling from the ledge, and he feels the twinge that comes with it. It is surprisingly significant, and it makes him wince.

"Alright," Mikleo says very carefully. "Let's not do anything stupid."

The girl's eyes are fixed on his. Her stature may be light, and her clothing a little too neat, but it is clear from her practiced grip and her steely gaze that she presents a significant threat.

"Yes, let's," she says, and her spear remains just as firmly held against his throat. Because she is not a statue, it moves the slightest bit, brushing against his jaw. He swallows.

"I swear I'm not a threat to you. I didn't even know you were in here before I found you."

"Who are you?" the girl interrupts, "and where do you hail from?"

"I'm just a boy who lives up here," Mikleo says. She frowns, her delicate eyebrows drawing together.

"Up here?" she asks. "On the mountain?"

"That's right," Mikleo responds. This does seem to relax her somewhat. The spear lowers just a fraction. For a split second, her eyes waver, and she looks him up and down.

"You don't look like a soldier," she says.

"He's not," Sorey says behind him. "We won't hurt you."

The girl makes no move to acknowledge his addition to the conversation. In fact, she makes no indication that she heard him at all. Mikleo remains still, while Sorey lets out a soft sound of wonderment.

"Wait, you really can't..." He takes another step forward. The girl still does not react.

It will not do them any good for Sorey to reveal his presence and startle her if she cannot see him. Mikleo waves his hand just a fraction, a warning for Sorey to stand back. The stab of pain in his wrist surprises him into a soft grunt of pain that instantly catches Sorey's attention. The girl's eyes flicker to his hand.

"You're unarmed too," she says. It is true. Mikleo's staff was dismissed into thin air by Sorey during the fall. This apparently makes him a safe enough entity, because she lowers her spear the rest of the way.

Mikleo relaxes his shoulders as it comes to rest on her lap. The tension drains out of him like water from a sieve. Muscle exhaustion in his arms and back threatens to overwhelm him.

"Are you hurt?" the girl asks as he begins to droop. He has the foresight to catch his damaged wrist in his other hand to lower it more gently, but it still hurts a great deal.

"Just a sprain," he lies. It feels much worse than that, but the best chance he has of fixing it is letting Sorey do it discreetly without her knowledge. If the stories are true, humanity does not believe in the seraphim any longer. Has not believed for a long time.

Without the initial wariness and the steel in her eyes, the girl's demeanour softens to perfectly match her delicate looks. She looks at him with a new tenderness in her eyes, born out of concern.

"I apologise," she says gently. "It is merely a precaution to act so hostile. I fear I am far enough from home that I cannot tell enemy from ally."

Mikleo is unsure whether he would personally label himself either of those things, but he nevertheless shakes his head. "A little caution is a healthy outlook. I'm just glad it wasn't at my expense."

Leaving his damaged wrist to rest in his lap, his other hand reaches up to rub at his exposed neck. Perhaps today the tunic with the high collar would have been a better choice, though he doubts it would have protected him much should she have chosen an attempt at his life. He does not want to consider that outcome.

Sorey's hand comes to rest on his shoulder. Given that he cannot clasp his own over it with her eyes on him, he merely turns his head a fraction to the left. Sorey begins to squeeze reassuringly, but stops himself when the girl's eyes flicker over Mikleo's shoulder for a moment. The movement caught her eye, but it was small enough merely to be his tunic shifting with him.

"I fear I am a bit lost at this point." She looks around uncertainly. "Say, could you direct me to the nearest village? I'm in need of food and a place to sleep."

Despite how concerned and wide-eyed she looks, her words are even-toned and rational.

"Of course," Mikleo says without a second thought. "The closest thing is to head back down the mountain, so if you turn down that hallw-"

He is suddenly cut off as Sorey's hand flies up to touch his neck just above where his tunic ends and administers a light electrical shock to that area. He flinches and cries out, and the girl looks at him in alarm.

Mikleo looks up with great annoyance at Sorey. Sorey gives him an unimpressed look back.

"Oh, no you don't," he says. "You're not sending her down the mountain in this condition. She has no rations and could have any number of injuries."

Mikleo has the strong urge to reply with a few choice words that should not be said in the presence of a lady. He remains silent for a moment as he composes himself, closing his eyes just briefly.

"What's wrong?" the girl asks. Mikleo shakes his head.

"Nothing. What I meant to say was that I live just a little further up the mountain. If you want, you could come stay in my village."

She blinks as the suggestion sinks in.

"Uh, sure," she stutters, taken aback. "That would be lovely. Thank you."

Mikleo is very aware of all the repercussions that could come from the offer he just made. No one in the village is going to be happy to see him come home late in the evening with a human girl in tow. Still, he has to concede, Sorey does have a point. It would not be safe to just send her alone back down through the forest. Where Gramps' domain ends, trouble begins.

"It's just down that hallway and then I know the way out." Mikleo points with his healthy hand. "If you'd follow me."

He gets up with minimal help from Sorey, both working to make it look as natural as possible. She looks concerned at the struggle.

"Do you need any help? I have salves in my-"

"I'm fine, but thank you." Mikleo motions for her to follow. She looks uncertain, but she does not remark on it any further.

"Okay," she says, and brushes dirt off herself. "Lead the way."

* * *

The walk out of the ruins takes a little while. Enough time for an awkward silence to settle over the trio. It is only broken - and only to Mikleo - when Sorey begins to speak.

"A real human," he says with great wonder. He walks next to her at a respectable distance. "And she's a traveler from the looks of it. Just imagine what she must have seen."

Mikleo does his best to keep his face neutral, but once she turns the other way he glares at Sorey, shaking his head. It is not a wise idea to get too engaged in her life, since she will most likely be sent home as soon as they are certain she is alright. Gramps is not going to like this to begin with.

Sorey continues unperturbed. "The seal on her armour looks familiar. Do you think she's from around here? Definitely Hyland, I'm sure. Do you recognise it any more than that, Mikleo?"

There is no doubt in Mikleo's mind that Sorey to some degree enjoys his inability to speak to him out loud at the moment. Sorey's eyes glint with mischef, and his mouth is pulled into a small smirk, but it does not diminish the enthusiasm in his questions and speculations. The girl walks on beside them, oblivious to the exchange.

"I think we should ask Gramps if she can stay for a few days. Maybe we can ask her about where she's from. She could have all kinds of stories to tell us. You might even get a new friend out of it, huh?"

Mikleo interrupts him finally by speaking, but he does so with his eyes on the girl's retreating back.

"Could you perhaps go on ahead for a little bit? It's just down this hallway for some time, and the straps on my shoe are coming loose. I'll catch up."

She stops and looks hesitantly at him. He gives her an encouraging nod.

"Alright," she says and walks further down the hallway. Mikleo bends down and pretends to fuss over his shoes until she is sufficiently far away. At that point he turns to Sorey and looks very stern.

"Stop it," he says. "We're not keeping her. She's not some Elysalark you can just pull out of a nest. Gramps is going to send her home the second we know she's okay."

At first Sorey just walks closer to him.

"Let me see that," he says, and gestures to Mikleo's injured hand. Miklso stands up and offers it without a word. Sorey is not the best healer they have in the Elysia, but he knows his way around basic seraphic artes.

Sorey works in silence for a few moments. Mikleo's skin buzzes with soft electricity. Instantly he gets some relief from the pain.

"Mikleo," Sorey says earnestly. "I get that this is a delicate situation, and that you feel that you have to be mature and serious about this, but that right there," he gestures down the hall where the girl disappeared, "is a real live human from the real actual human part of this world. Tell me that isn't a little bit cool."

Mikleo shifts from one foot to the other as he glares, but he realises he does not have a leg to stand on. He reluctantly shrugs his shoulders.

"It's a little cool," he admits. Sorey's smiles. He turns over Mikleo's hand to heal from that angle. As he does, he continues to speak.

"Yes, I'm excited for this. I am, but to be perfectly honest I want it more for your sake. This is your chance to talk to another human. We didn't cause it, but it happened. We should take the opportunity while it's there."

Mikleo does not say anything at first. He simply watches the sparks flicker around his hand. Sorey bend his wrist slightly, and he flinches just a bit.

"What if I don't want to talk to another human?" he counters, and watches for Sorey's reaction.

"Don't you?" Sorey asks, his eyes still on his work.

Mikleo's eyes are on Sorey, contemplating. He sighs through his nose.

"Gramps will never let her stay. You know that."

"Look," Sorey says. "Let me talk to Gramps. When we get there, you just give her a quick look around and I'll fix it. Trust me."

Mikleo does not want to get his hopes up, but to a certain extent he cannot help it.

"Fine. We'll give it a shot. We'll appeal to Gramps, but I'm warning you. If Medea corners me, I'm selling you out."

"That's my boy." Sorey smiles happily. He lets go of Mikleo's wrist, and Mikleo flexes his hand experimentally. It feels a lot better, though not quite healed. Mikleo nods his gratitude.

"We should catch up. She'll get suspicious at this rate."

"Sure, but Mikleo." Sorey waits for him to stop and look at him. "If you want this to work, you're going to have to speak to her. I hear humans like it when you do that."

Miklo rolls his eyes. He motions for Sorey to lead the way, and the two set off after her together.

* * *

They reach the end of the last hallway and step out into the open air just as the sun begins to set. By this time, the boys are very late for dinner.

The girl at Mikleo's side lets out a soft gasp as they step out, captivated by the view that the valley and the milky sunset create. The sky is painted in soft reds and yellows that blend into each other. The view is soothing to the eye. The tall trees and scattered stone structures that stretch the ruins out over the mountain are all casting long shadows on the grassy hills.

"This place is beautiful," she says. She speaks breathlessly, and her posture is completely different from that of the hardened soldier he met inside. She seems deceptively delicate like this, all wide eyes and open mouthed awe.

"It sure is," Mikleo says hesitantly, and then instantly regrets it. He really has no idea what he could say to this girl that would not be taken as awkward and incredibly strange. She takes no notice of his uncertainty, though, venturing forward down the stone steps at their feet. She walks almost as if in a trance, as if the beauty of the landscape works to draw her subconsciously in. She marvels at the sight of the ruins.

Sorey casts a meaningful look at Mikleo, who dutifully follows her down.

"This is so exciting," the girl gushes, clasping her hands delicately in front of her. Her spear caught between them looks awkwardly out of place in this pose. Still, as she swings it back down to hang at her side, it is clear that she has it in a perfect grip. She holds it with a certain grace that makes Mikleo wary of her, because he can tell just how well she apparently knows how to use it. He has a fresh memory of her threatening him expertly with it to strengthen the fear.

Her bright eyes turn on him, a brief respite from attempting to drink in the detail of the entire mountain.

"Have you lived here your whole life?" she asks. He shrugs one shoulder with his reply.

"I have. It's not as exciting as you think, though."

The answer has less to do with his own experience on the mountain and more to do with the fact that the girl obviously has a very low level of resonance. If his prediction is right, she will not be able to see anyone in the village. It will look like a very _quiet_ place to her.

"Trust me," she says with a newfound sad tint to her eyes, "I'm doing my best not to get my hopes up too much."

"What do you mean?" Mikleo asks. She looks almost bashful for a moment, visibly embarrassed.

"Well," she hesitates, "I'm not here on purely adventurous grounds. The reason I'm here is because I want to see if there is some truth to the old legends of the seraphim." She glances at him with a self-deprecating smile. "I know, I know, they're just stories. But I believe that there must be some measure of truth at the bottom of every legend."

Mikleo walks silently beside her. He considers her statement at length. The presence of the seraphim, he knows, is an uncertainty among humans in today's world. However, the concept of reading about it and seeing it for himself - the casual manner in which she dismisses the certainty of his family members existing at all - are vastly different things. It unsettles him, to see her visibly squash down her wonder and replace it with taught rationality, because it is a practice he himself has performed many times growing up. He, however, has never had to do it with the concept of his family existing.

He glances at Sorey, who has fallen into step beside them. Sorey does not look at either of them. He seems to be in his own thoughts.

He has not said anything since they caught up with her. If Mikleo knows him right, his quick adjustment to the situation has by now given way to some disappointment at her inability to see or hear him at all. Now it seems as though the reality of it is beginning to sink in, and Sorey is realising that he will not be able to talk to her even with help. The idea is disheartening to Mikleo. He cannot imagine how it feels for Sorey.

Careful not to stir in her line of vision, Mikleo reaches out to squeeze Sorey's hand. Sorey blinks, and then smiles. Mikleo can tell that it still bothers him.

"You're actually in luck, then," Mikleo says, his eyes on Sorey. "I happen to live in a shrine to the seraphim. If you're going to find anything, you'll do it there."

Both Sorey and the girl turn surprised looks on him. Sorey looks suddenly amused. He shakes his head fondly, clearly aware of the attempt to cheer him up. Mikleo gives the barest hint of a smile before he turns back fully to her.

"Really?" she asks, "How exciting for you."

Her warm admiration is encouraging. Mikleo shrugs his shoulders bashfully.

"It's home," he says. "I don't think that hard about it."

She looks up at the darkening sky above them. She hums thoughtfully, and her smile takes a turn for the mischievous.

"Have you ever seen a seraph, then?" she asks. It appears joking, but Mikleo gets the impression of some real hope in her face. He considers his answer for a long moment.

The human world does not believe in seraphim. Even with her enthusiasm, she seems to be a smart girl. It is impossible to tell how she would react to an admission of the truth, and as such risky.

"If I said I had, would you believe me?" he asks, testing the waters. She keeps looking at the sky, her gaze distant.

"I'm not sure," she admit after some thought. It seems almost a surprise to her.

Beside Mikleo, Sorey chuckles weakly, no more than air out of his lungs. Mikleo turns his eyes away from her, and they walk together in silence.

They reach the foot of the tallest hill in Elysia. There, they stop outside of the village, some distance from the great stone arch that frames its entrance. It hints at some older and larger structure by far, and it it one of the clues which first led the boys to guess at the enormity of the Mabinogio temple in its spectacular prime. The thought at the time excited and encouraged them. It lead to a great interest in discovering the rest of the ruins and all the secrets that they could hold.

Mikleo glances at the girl in his periphery. That is certainly something he was not expecting to find.

"Well, here we are," he says, gesturing half heartedly to his home. He is unsure just how impressive it looks to this girl, who clearly must come from some sort of noble birthplace. Her clothing and elaborate weapon are testament to that.

His concern is unfounded. She looks up the houses on the hill as though they are something wondrous. As if the dark village holds some sort of mystical secret that she has spent some time searching for. Her smile is restrained, but warm.

"So this is the home of the seraphim," she says. Her tone is a little wry, reining in any stray hope. She is trying hard not to set herself up for disappointment, and it breaks Mikleo's heart just a little. She does seem like a sweet girl.

Sorey turns to Mikleo with an expression on his face that hints at the two of them being in on some sort of unspoken joke. He looks a little worn, but still amused. Mikleo makes an effort not to roll his eyes at him.

"My house is close to the top," Mikleo says. "You should probably just stay with me."

He can make up some sort of excuse as to why the other houses seem empty later on. At the moment he just wants to get home and try to sort this out before it becomes a problem with the older seraphim. The sky has almost darkened completely now, and the first glints of stars are starting to show.

He realises with a start that he is exhausted. The events of the day have proven too distracting for him to notice earlier in the walk. He can also feel the damage from his earlier fall more clearly now. His chest stings in a way that is becoming distracting from his thoughts, and his legs ache from running all day and then crawling wildly across an invisible bridge. He will have to ask Medea to look at it at a later time, when he can find somewhere for the girl to occupy herself for a little while.

Sorey speaks, and Mikleo has the sudden realisation that he has sort of missed it. It is rare for Sorey to be so silent for such long periods of time.

"Take her to the house. I'll tell everyone about the situation. Right now you need to sleep."

Mikleo wants to object, but Sorey is right. As much as Mikleo resents it, he has far more needs which need to be addressed than the seraphim around him on a daily basis. When he was little, he would admit to it making him feel weak. Nowadays he would not say it out loud.

He nods slightly, just a slight dip of the chin. Sorey crouches low on the ground, bracing himsef.

"I'll come by the house later," he says, and then shoots silently off into the sky. He disappears quickly into the darkness. Mikleo looks after him enviously.

The human girl stands next to him still. He looks at her and gestures with his hand towards the path up the hill.

"Shall we?" he asks, and makes an attempt to smile politely. Oblivious to the earlier exchange, she seems amused enough.

"Lead the way."


	4. Elysia, Home of the Seraphim

The two of them speak very little when they enter his house. He offers his guest the use of his bed and sits on the carpet by the fire. His books are spread out and scattered, a project he prepared and started earlier that day. He sits cross-legged on the carpet and diverts his gaze as she sheds her armour.

His eyes cannot settle on one thing for more than a second or so. He is not as afraid as he was of her, but still nervous. The knowledge that she will not kill him (he has made an educated guess at this point) does little to help the fact that he is out of his depth socially.

Her spear is left by the hearth where he sits, leaned against the stone wall. Now that he can see it up close without the imminent danger, he can note the details which in truth are utterly fascinating. It looks to be an heirloom of some kind. If it is authentic, it certainly places her in some sort of nobility. Sorey was right about it being Hyland. Provided it truly belongs to her, it provides some context for her presence. Hyland, he is told, is the vast country that their mountain is part of, stretching from its foot as far as the Rolance Empire in the west.

The girl stands with her back to him and takes all the strings out of her hair. It falls over her shoulders and back in soft curls. In her black dress and with her hair down, she looks like a perfectly innocent young girl. It fascinates Mikleo, the same way a predator in nature using camouflage fascinates him.

She turns around and sits down on the bed, rifling in some pouches she has attached to her waist. He watches her curiously.

She produces a bundle of herbs and a small bottle of gel from her belt. She tips her head back and swallows most of the gel in one sweep, and it gives Mikleo the impression that this is something she is more than used to. Then she goes about crumbling the dried herbs into the bottle and mixing them and the leftover gel with her finger. She pulls up her sleeves and begins applying this mix to the cuts and scrapes on her arms.

Her arms and face are scuffed, and the rest of her looks quite worn. If she came into the ruins through an unexplored area, Mikleo could easily understand her having had a rough day. The traps in that place are many and dangerous, to the point where he and Sorey were not allowed to explore on their own until they were old enough to look out for each other.

It did not stop them, but there was a rule in place. None can fault the seraphim for trying.

"Do you need any help with that?" he asks, because it is the polite thing to do. Her eyes flicker up to him, and she smiles back just as politely.

"I'm good, thank you. I've been through worse."

Given her methodical approach to her recovery, he can believe that. He nods. "I see. Well, tell me if you change your mind."

At a loss for anything else to do, he picks up one of the books on the floor and flips it open. His wrist twinges with the motion, and he makes a mental note to let Medea look at it as soon as he can. It will have to be early in the morning.

He is not looking at the book, as his eyes are on the fire, but he knows just from how it feels in his hands which one it is. He has held this book countless times before, read it again and again. It is his favourite, a volume called the Celestial Record. If he were to think hard on it, he might even be able to guess just from the feel of the pages which one he has opened it to.

It works as a comforting weight in his hands. His eyes drop down to it. There is an illustration on the page, a messy sketch of a tower in some distant land. There is a signature at the bottom of the page, the artist and author marking their work, but it is unintelligible.

The author of the book has a sort of rushed and melded handwriting that makes it difficult to make out. At this point, Mikleo and Sorey have become expert translators of the messy scribbles, having read it many times over, but they have never figured out the signature, beyond an initial "M". It appears only a few times in the entire volume.

When they were little, Mikleo would imagine it being his own name, substituting in his own handwriting for the blotchy lines. He likes the idea a lot.

Mikleo likes writing. Scattered around his house in loose pages are his first attempts at compiling his ideas into some kind of story. It falls short of what he wants, however, as his dream when he was little was to write a book just like the Celestial Record. A travel journal with exciting adventures in it. Something he and Sorey can share.

Sorey would be in it, of course. That has been a given since the beginning. It was the first thing that occurred to him when he thought of the idea.

He flips the page and reads a few lines, basking in the comforting repetition. The author has a very passionate way of describing the places he has visited and the people he met. There is a warm, affectionate tone to the descriptions, a fondness for the adventure that Mikleo recognises from his own exploring with Sorey, even if it is only to the nearby ruins and not to the ends of the earth. Sometimes he thinks that surely the only direction this author did not travel is upwards into the sky, and only because he would have described the sun with new eyes had he done so. It makes Mikleo jealous to think about.

His thoughts are interrupted when the girl speaks again.

"How many people live in your village?" she asks.

Mikleo startles at the question. For whatever reason, the thought had not occurred to him that she might ask about that.

"Oh, I live alone up here," he says quickly, before he has the time to think of a lie. It is probably for the best. He is a bad liar.

"You do?" She frowns. "Why is that? Did you grow up here?"

"Yeah, no, I..." he fumbles for words. "I just... I used to live in, um, Hyland, but then I wanted to live on my own for a while. This village was, uh," technically built by seraphim. "abandoned, and I moved here alone."

"There was a whole village abandoned at the top of the mountain?" She glances around the small room nervously. It is perfectly inviting, with a warm fire crackling since earlier in the day. She now looks around as though it could be haunted. "What happened here? Do you know?"

Mikleo licks his lips, inwardly cursing his nonexistent talent for deceit. "Oh, nothing happened. They just wanted to... live somewhere else."

"A whole village relocating so quickly is not a good sign," she says, concerned. "Surely there must have been something to cause them to flee."

"No. No, nothing like that." He clears his throat, avoids her eyes. "They just felt the need to be, um, closer to the capital. Yeah, that's, uh, that's what I was told."

She still looks less than convinced. Mikleo shrugs helplessly.

"It wasn't a very big settlement to begin with. They just felt they needed a change of pace, you know. Closer to all the shops?"

Finally, her skepticism seems to ease up a little bit. She she nods slowly.

"I think I understand. It must have felt like a great responsibility as well to live in the middle of a shrine to the seraphim."

Of course, that is something he could have said - it would have been a much simpler lie - but it naturally did not occur to him to bring up the shrine aspect of it. Not when it is second nature for him to be living in such an important place. It is difficult to revere the spirits of nature as piously as the priests when the spirits are the ones telling you to finish your dinner and go to bed before sunset. His family have never told him to treat them any differently than he would another human.

"That's true." He shrugs, smiles in a way he hopes looks natural. "It is a holy place, after all."

"And you live here all by yourself now," she smiles too, which reassures him that he is safe from suspicion at the moment. "I'm impressed."

He is not sure what to say to that, so he merely thanks her. He shifts to lean on the sid of the hearth, and she speaks again.

"I have another question if you don't mind."

He clears his throat, bracing himself. "Sure. What is it?"

"Is that the Celestial Record?"

Mikleo blinks, surprised. She appears to be finished with treating her wounds, as she now only looks intently at the book in his hands.

"Yes," he says, holding it up so that she can see the cover. "Yes it is." Despite himself, he feels a surge of pride at showing off the worn volume. "It's my favourite book."

A very genuine smile forms on her face. "Mine too."

She sits on the bed. Her eyes are glued to the book. Mikleo recognises the excitement in her expression, as he often sees it on Sorey. It comes from prospect of an interesting discussion.

"Really?" He tilts his head. His thumb strokes almost affectionately over the page.

She nods, and her smile becomes bigger. Noticeably, her shoulders become less tense.

"I used to sit up at night reading it when I was a child," she says, and her gaze falls shyly to the floor. "It's mostly just stories, but I loved them."

Mikleo lowers his eyes to the page. He knows every line and smudge of it as though he had created it himself. Slowly, he turns the page. There is a block of text, matched with an illustration. Many people in robes and elaborate garments, praying together at an elegantly constructed shrine.

Mikleo traces the image of the person at the top of the shrine. There is a clear difference in their body language, their clothing, their beautiful features. It makes it perfectly clear what the figure is. He mulls over what it is exactly that he wants to say.

"I have a question too." She nods for him to continue, and he weighs the words before he says them. "You said that you wanted to see whether there was any truth to the legends of the seraphim. I take it people really do not believe in them where you come from then?"

She stutters for a moment. "I..." Her mouth is open, but for a moment no sound comes out.

"I don't want to say no," she says, her gaze falling to the carpet beneath Mikleo. "But there is very little of the faith there used to be. People are unsure, and so they follow traditions simply because they are traditions."

"And what about you?" Mikleo asks, without really knowing why he speaks. The tone of the whole conversation has gone very quickly fro lighthearted to heavy on their shoulders. "Do you really not believe in them?"

He meets her eyes. In that moment, she looks more delicate than he could have imagined. Fragile and vulnerable, like the person at the top of the illustrated shrine. As though the two of them were made of the same kind of glass.

The fire, long since lowered to a warm glow, casts their faces in gentle shadows as they look at each other.

"I want to," she says, her voice very quiet. "I really want to."

Mikleo sits frozen on the carpet, increasingly aware of the soft brush of air into his lungs. The reality of it sinks in for him in that moment. The implications of not being able to see them, and to truly be forced to wonder about their existence. How much hope must she have lost, if she is insistent enough on regaining it to travel up a mountain and through dangerous ruins by herself?

"Do you?" she asks, very suddenly breaking the silence.

Mikleo flinches and hopes it is not too noticeable. He shifts uncomfortably, avoiding her eyes. He is at a loss for what to say. Telling her no feels like an injustice of a kind, while telling her the opposite could result in him having to tell her more badly improvised lies. Neither one of those options seems very fair to her.

The silence drags on for a few moments too long. He fails to come up with an answer.

"It is alright if you don't," she says, and Mikleo gets the sense that he has failed some sort of test. Her expression shutters, her childlike wonder truly erased.

"Not many people do these days," she says, in such a matter of fact way that he imagines that she must have rehearsed it to herself many times. "It is a collection of children's stories, exaggerations by flighty adventurers with hungry imaginations."

If there is a better description of the way Mikleo and Sorey go about their interest, Mikleo certainly will not be the one to think of it. Still, there is a difference between believing something because you want it to be true and doing so because it shows itself to be. For that reason, her words sit heavy in his chest.

Her retreat into herself is visible and looks truly heartbreaking. He can see her suppressing the hope once more. Naturally she would do so, upon receiving such an answer as none from a boy who himself lives in a shrine to the seraphim. Even he could not reassure her. He cannot imagine how it must feel.

"I suppose so," he says. He flips the page again, reads the first few lines without really comprehending what they say.

"It is a nice story though," he says quietly. "I quite like it."

When he looks at her again, she looks surprised. Taken aback, and just a little bit touched by his words. She smiles sadly, just a little bit.

"I do too," she says. "It has comforted me many times growing up."

"Then we should let it be a comfort now too," Mikleo says. He turns the page. "This is one of my favourite passages," he holds it up, traces the edge of the page with a finger. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She smiles, visibly relaxing as her shoulders sink.

"I would love to," she says.

* * *

Mikleo wakes up the next day in a sitting position, still leaned against the fireplace. There is a blanket over him, but since he is still in his clothes it makes him feel far too warm. He pushes it off himself, stretching his arms above his head and groaning with the movement. Some number of hours in a stress position has done a number on him.

The girl is asleep on his bed, wrapped up in blankets and barely visible. He can see some curly locks sticking out on one side, and it is somewhat endearing considering the graceful creature she presented herself as last night. Sitting neatly on the mattress, she talked animatedly to him about wide plains and ruins on frozen ice caps. The conversation became very interesting once they were both able to relax and enjoy it.

Despite himself, he feels better about the situation at hand. As dangerous as it may be, he has never met a human before, and truthfully Sorey is right: he should take the opportunity now that he has it to learn about them.

He smiles slightly as he looks at her. He stretches his legs out and prepares to stand as carefully as possible, so as not to wake her.

This proves more easily thought than done, as his limbs have been awkwardly curled all night. His left foot has fallen asleep at some point. It takes some shuffling and muttered complaints, but he manages to sneak away without making the floor creak too much. He opens the door very carefully and makes his escape.

The sun is bright in the sky outside. It must have risen some time ago. There is a mild breeze, carrying with it warm air and the sweet smell of flowers that bloom just down the hill from the village. Mikleo straightens out his rumpled shirt and shakes his foot in an attempt to restore some of his blood flow. His hair must be a mess. He runs a hand haphazardly through it.

Sorey is waiting outside, standing with his back to the house and looking out over the slope of the mountain. He turns around when he hears the creak of the door. His smile is bright and just a little bit forced. He says nothing at first, and he set of his shoulders tells Mikleo that whatever happened while he was asleep was not a pleasant experience. However, they expected as much.

Mikleo takes his place next to Sorey. They look out over the grassy slope together.

It must still be morning, judging by the light breeze and the silence of the village. The seraphim are still in their houses, those that enjoy it preparing food and those that do not likely entertaining themselves some other way. They do not all sleep, but most of them took up the habit when Mikleo and Sorey were children, and some of them took a liking to the practice. Mikleo wonders if Sorey bothered with it last night.

"So," Mikleo says. "On a scale of one to dead men walking, how much trouble are we in?"

Sorey makes a show of being casual, shifting on his feet. "He's not _that_ mad," he says.

Mikleo meets his eyes. He stares.

Sorey sighs. "There was some yelling. He understands, but he wants her out as soon as possible."

It must have been a spectacular show of outrage. Gramps has never been fond of the idea of outsiders in his domain, and he has always told the boys as much. They will have to have a long talk about it later. One that Mikleo does not look forward to.

"Well that won't happen today," Mikleo says, and amusement tugs at his mouth. "She's still hurt, and she needs provisions to make her way back to Ladylake."

Sorey gasps. He beams at Mikleo.

"You asked."

Mikleo shrugs, smirking. "You weren't gonna shut up about it."

"I wasn't." Sorey grins. "So what else did you talk about?"

"Books, mostly. It turns out she loves the Celestial Record too."

This is something he is excited to share, as the book is their shared favourite. It gets the reaction he wanted, and also expected.

"Really?" Sorey bounces on his heels, his eyes alight. "I bet she's seen a ton of stuff traveling like this."

Mikleo nods. "I'm sure."

"You gotta ask her about it."Sorey rocks back and forth on his feet, as though his excitement is bubbling over into physical movement. It makes Mikleo laugh as he is caught up in it briefly. For a moment, it almost feels like they are not in terrible trouble.

"I'm pretty sure we should let her get some rest and regain her bearings, don't you think? We don't wanna scare her off before she has a chance to recover."

"Fine," Sorey shrugs sheepishly. He leans into Mikleo's side, and Mikleo adjusts his balance accordingly. "Did you find out her name?"

Mikleo shakes his head. "She didn't wanna say. I don't like it, but I do understand. I told her not to worry about it."

"Can't say I blame her," Sorey says, though he sounds somewhat disappointed. "I mean, she is staying with a strange man on top of a mountain. Perhaps she's just going along with your suggestions because she's terrified of you."

"Thanks." Mikleo sticks his tongue out. "As if she didn't almost skewer me in the ruins. I think she can handle herself."

It is not meant to sound as impressed as it does. There is a certain fondness in his tone that the both of them catch on to immediately, and that Mikleo instantly regrets. It makes Sorey light up with a sort of smug expression that usually accompanies his 'I told you so's.

Mikleo closes his eyes, bracing for the worst.

"That is some distinct non-disgust I hear there." Sorey's smirk is obnoxious. "Could it be that you don't mind her existence as much as you thought you would?"

Mikleo snorts inelegantly. "I mind your existence."

"Hey." Sorey pokes him in the shoulder. "Those are my feelings you're stepping on."

Mikleo chuckles. The playful mood is infectious. He takes a step closer and bumps their shoulders together hard enough to unbalance Sorey. The latter takes it for the challenge it is and begins to advance on him threateningly. Mikleo steps backwards, raising his hands in defence.

"Sorey," he warns, because he can see the glint in his eyes. Suddenly he regrets this. His own eyes flit to the closed cabin door and back. "You're going to wake her."

"What are you talking about?" Sorey say mischievously, fingers curling threateningly towards him. "She can't hear me. _You're_ going to wake her."

"Sorey, come on," his smile is getting wide and nervous. "Cut it out."

"Make me." Sorey makes a grab for him, but Mikleo is too quick. He dodges a poke or two before Sorey gets a hold of his wrist and hauls him in like a caught fish by the arm. They grapple only for a moment before they freeze in place. The sound of the door behind them creaking open catches them by surprise.

Mikleo looks up to see the girl emerging from the house. Her hair is brushed out and lays neatly over her shoulders. Her armour is still off, leaving her in a pair of tights and the black dress she wore to bed.

She rubs at her eyes for a second. Then she looks up at the two of them - or rather, at Mikleo standing in an odd position on the grass, seemingly alone.

His wrists are caught in Sorey's hands. He opens his mouth, tugs lightly enough that it should not be too conspicuous. Sorey lets go of him as quickly as though he were a hot potato.

"Hi," Mikleo says, and his voice comes out far too light and airy for his taste. Sorey snorts a laugh, and Mikleo wishes he could swat him over the head.

"Morning," the girl mumbles. She looks very tired, still. "Did you sleep well?"

"Oh, just fine," Mikleo insists. Sorey is actively laughing at him now. It is very distracting. "Are you feeling any better?"

She smiles. "Very much so. Thank you for letting me stay."

This time, his smile is genuine. "No problem." A lie if he ever told one. "I was about to go get some supplies. Would you like to join me for breakfast after that?"

She blinks, confused. "What kind of supplies?"

"Hunting," Mikleo answers. "I have some weapons over at that house." He points, and her eyes follow his hand.

She frowns.

"I was wondering," she says. "Are we truly alone up here?"

She says it as though the statement is an absurd one. Mikleo panics just a little bit, wondering privately if she heard the commotion before she came out of the house.

"I..." he glances at Sorey, who shrugs helplessly. "Yes?"

That draws an amused smile from her. "You are unsure?"

Mikleo huffs and hopes it comes off as amused enough. "No, I meant-" he shakes his head, gestures down to the arch that borders the village. "There's not _just_ me. There's goats and birds and prickleboar all around. It's not like I'm alone."

He smiles as he says this. The girl seems satisfied with this answer, and Sorey mutters "good save" under his breath.

"I suppose you could say that the legends keep you company as well," she says with some measure of humour.

"You could say, yeah," Sorey mutters and pokes Mikleo in the side. Mikleo flinches, taking a step away from him and trying to make it look like casual shifting of his stance. This particular development in their dynamic is not something he enjoys.

Oblivious to his struggle, the girl takes the last step down the stairs from his house. "To answer your question, though," she says. "I would love to join you for breakfast."

"Great," Mikleo says, and he is already making a mental list of what they will need for the hunt. If he is going to entertain company for the next few days, he is going to need the food necessary to do it.

Granted, the supply run is mostly a cover for talking to the seraphim alone and explaining why this is Sorey's fault and not his, but he does plan to pick up some extra arrows at Kyme's house. He has not needed to hunt for a few weeks now, as a lot of berries are in season and his diet is padded out with baked goods and frozen treats courtesy of his family. That, however, he can neither explain nor share with his guest.

"I'll be back in a little while," he says, adding up the time and tasks in his head, "Feel free to take a look around if you want."

He would have to be blind not to notice the way she looks around the shrine with hungry eyes. She perks up at the offer.

"I would love to." She nods. "It is an honor to be in a shrine of the seraphim. You are quite lucky to get to spend so much time here."

He knows it too. "Jut try not to touch anything that looks fragile, ok?"

"Oh, of course." She straightens a bit, every bit the knight even without the armour. "I will conduct myself as though I were in the presence of the seraphim themselves, be assured."

Mikleo's mouth twitches. "Wonderful. I'll be back in a little while."

He only has time to take a few steps in the other direction before Sorey nudges him in the arm.

"Don't forget to bring that to Medea," he says, gesturing to the injured wrist. Mikleo nods as inconspicuously as he can - the girl is not yet out of earshot.

"Then again," Sorey says, "Maybe that won't be an issue."

Mikleo stops and looks to where Sorey is looking, which is in the direction of the first few approaching members of their family. They seem to have woken up, and are advancing on the boys quickly. At the helm is a very irate-looking Medea. She strides towards them with a decisiveness that comes only from raising the most reckless and difficult of children.

Mikleo groans.

"Avenge me," he says quietly to Sorey, who only laughs.

"You think I'm making it out of this?" he asks, and he honestly has a point.

* * *

Gramps' house is larger than Mikleo's, though empty for the most part. There are a few bookshelves and scattered pieces of furniture here and there, but Gramps never took to human culture in the same way that many of the other seraphim in the village did. What he has is mostly there for the benefit of the boys.

When they were little, the two of them would sit in the main room, reading old tomes together and taking notes in messy unorganised scribbles. Most of those books have now found their way to Mikleo's house, out of convenience more than anything else, but Mikleo and Sorey still find the time to visit Gramps' house, sitting around the fire pit as tea brews above the hot coals. They ask Gramps questions about the past, and discuss at a much more complicated things than they ever could as children.

Now Mikleo kneels on the floor next to that fire pit, stared down by a group of angry seraphim. He shrinks under their gazes, his shoulders sagging.

Beside him on the floor is Medea. She has his wrist in her hands, working on healing it as they speak.

"In my defense," Mikleo says. "It was Sorey's idea."

It is an excuse he used a lot when they were children. It often worked then, as Sorey is quite an energetic seraph that their family found difficult to make behave. Now, however, it appears to be ineffective.

"You two could not be more reckless if you tried," Medea mutters. Her words are sharp, but her hands are soft and her water is soothing on his skin. There is some swelling, but it goes down quickly with her coaxing.

"I'm starting to wonder whether we should be letting you back into those ruins."

This would have been upsetting to the boys had it not been for the fact that Medea says this every time one of them gets even slightly harmed while exploring Mount Mabinogio. It is uttered not out of a need to threaten but out of worry for them and they understand that.

"Medea, it's fine." Sorey puts a hand on her shoulder. "No one got badly hurt. We can handle it."

"I'm less concerned with what you can handle and more with what you dragged in like a couple of cats," Kyme says, crossing his arms. He does not look as livid as Medea. In truth, there is a tinge of amusement to his words. It appears not everyone in the village is frightened at the possibility of a human visiting them.

"Gramps," Sorey pleads behind Mikleo. "I meant what I said last night. She was hurt and alone. We couldn't leave her."

Gramps sits in the middle of the room, next to the fire and facing Mikleo. True to his position, the seraphim that are in the room keep a respectful distance and stand alongside the walls. There are about five or six, the oldest living in the village. It is not exactly the place of people like Mason or Natalie to reprimand the boys. By seraphim standards they only count as a few years older.

As the head of the village and the creator of the domain which protects all of Elysia, Gramps commands significant respect from the whole family. His clothing and posture both exemplify this, despite his short stature and frail appearance. He is much older than the other seraphim in the room, even by the standards that apply to their aging, and he looks it. A marvel of strength, he radiates a sort of power that even Mikleo's human resonance can pick up on. His domain has remained a warm, comforting presence around them for as long as Mikleo can remember.

Right now, however, it almost feels as though the temperature has dropped in the room. The head of the village holds up a hand, and the muttering of the seraphim quiets instantly. He fixes Mikleo with his cool, calculating gaze.

"Let me speak to the boys alone," he says, voice rasping in his throat.

Without question, the seraphim around them shuffle one by one through the door and out into the village. Medea squeezes Mikleo's wrist to check for further damage. Satisfied, she lets him go and follows the others out.

Sorey kneels next to Mikleo, close enough that their shoulders almost touch. He looks determined, resolute in their decision.

"Sorey has explained to me what happened to the two of you last night." Gramps says slowly. He holds a long gold-tipped pipe in one hand, which he brings up to his mouth as he continues to speak.

"Do you care to give your version of it, Mikleo?"

He takes a long drag of the pipe. Mikleo watches as he lets it out and the smoke falls in graceful rivulets to the floor. It stays in place, laying like thin mist over the surface of it.

"Sorey is right," Mikleo says. "She was badly hurt on the way up here. I don't think it woud be wise to send her down again on her own in this condition."

The silence weighs on his shoulders as Gramps takes in this answer. Gramps takes another drag, lets the smoke fall gracefully from his mouth. Mikleo remembers when he and Sorey were ten years old, and they attempted to use the pipe without Gramps' knowledge. They ended up coughing hard just from the smallest inhale of smoke.

"I do take you to be the more rational one out of the two of you," Gramps says, his lips twitching. "For the most part, at least."

Normally, Sorey would be jumping at the opportunity to defend his own maturity. Now, however, he seems to be exemplifying it by remaining silent and treating the situation as seriously as it needs. It is nothing if not a testament to his honesty about the danger of the girl's journey home.

"Mikleo," Gramps says, and Mikleo sits a little straighter. "Do you know how much I care for you boys?"

Mikleo blinks. The question seems out of the blue. "I know that you do, and I am grateful for it."

"It is difficult to know until you have children of your own." Gramps' narrow eyes twinkle with amusement. "But then you know to what lengths I will go to assure your comfort and safety."

"I do," Mikleo says dutifully, nodding his head.

"And you know that the seraphim of this village will always watch over you, as we have promised."

They are no longer questions, but he answers nonetheless. "I do."

"Good," Gramps says. "Then rest assured that I will accept your decision to keep this girl in the village for the coming few days."

Surprised at the lack of an outburst, Mikleo is about to thank him when he continues.

"But you must also know that should she present herself as a threat to you, the seraphim of this village will be under my orders to protect you at any cost."

Mikleo's hand, rested on his knee, closes into a loose fist. He nods his head.

"I understand," he says.

"Good," Gramps says. He tips the pipe into the fire pit and taps out the spent tobacco into the coal bed. "Then go, and make sure she does not cause any harm to the shrine. It is our duty to protect it."

"Of course," Mikleo says, grateful and confused at the approval. "Thank you."

* * *

"What did you say to him?" Mikleo whispers to Sorey as they walk towards the woods later that morning. Their guest is walking behind them, distracted into awe by every piece of the ruins they pass. The two of them used to be the same, but at a much younger age. At this point they have grown used to them.

"I don't know," Sorey says, every bit as surprised as Mikleo is. "I mean, he yelled when I first told him. Lectured me about rules, the peace of Elysia, the whole deal." He gestures his perplexity. "Now I kind of wish I had taken you with me for it."

Mikleo is too confused to laugh at the joke. Even to taunt Sorey for being the only one to get in real trouble. It is unlike Gramps to be so accepting even of the suggestion of bringing outsiders into Elysia. For as long as they can remember, the protection of the shrine has been the priority for him. He has certainly lectured them enough on it.

"Although," Sorey says, holding up a finger. "I might have some idea of what I could have said to persuade him."

"Yeah?" Mikleo raises his eyebrows. "Wanna share? Because my eardrums are still intact and I am confused."

"Well," Sorey looks unsure. "I do remember him yelling about bringing their kind into Elysia, and I interrupted him to defend us."

Mikleo blinks. The wording in Sorey's retelling feels oddly unsettling to him. To hear her described in that dismissive way does not sit right with him for some reason.

"And what did you say?" he asks.

"I said that you're "their kind" too," Sorey looks at him earnestly. "And that he shouldn't take this away from you. This is your chance to learn more about them."

It is meant to be a reassuring statement, judging from Sorey's tone. However, to hear himself be described in such a way by two members of their family feels nothing short of uncomfortable. Mikleo never did like being reminded of his being different from the rest of the village.

"At any rate, it seems it worked out," Sorey says. "We get to let her rest and help her prepare for the journey home."

"It hasn't worked out yet, though," Mikleo says, looking back at their guest. She has stopped to inspect a protruding stone wall, putting too much distance between them and her to safely continue. "We have to actually manage that too."

"Oh, don't worry about that." Sorey grins. "I have total faith in you."

"That makes one of us, then," Mikleo mutters under his breath. He turns fully and walks a few steps back towards her. He raises his voice.

"Hey," he says, and she looks up. "How well can you handle a shortbow?"

"Well enough," she says. "but I have never actually been on a hunt before."

Sorey smiles at him, bowing to Mikleo and gesturing her way like a true gentleman.

"Don't worry," Mikleo says, and ignores the irony of it. "Come here. I'll show you."

* * *

That evening the three of them sit around the fire in Mikleo's house and work together on preparing dinner. It becomes a bit of an awkward shuffle to decide who should do what, and the young knight properly surprises the boys with the news that she has never in fact cooked meat over a fire before.

"You're a knight," Mikleo says, incredulous and a little amused. "I thought knights had to camp out in the field all the time. Is that not true?"

The girl surprises him again by actually blushing the slightest bit. "I can't say that I've ever been on a longer mission," she says.

Mikleo can understand that. She looks quite young to be in the royal family' service.

"Well, don't worry about it. Get the spit over there and I'll tell you how to do it."

That makes Sorey perk up beside him, his mouth open with surprise.

"You're gonna show her?" he asks. "Seriously?"

Mikleo waits until the girl has her back turned to look at Sorey and shake his head very deliberately. Sorey frowns for a second, but then it dawns on him.

"Oh," he says. "Right. Okay." He smiles, and Mikleo smiles back. Then Mikleo quickly looks away when the girl returns with the requested spit.

"Alright," Sorey says to Mikleo. "You'll want to start with the spices."

"Spices first," Mikleo repeats so that the girl can hear. She nods happily and goes to work on looking for the correct ones.

It is a bit awkward and it takes a little longer than it usually does Sorey, but they eventually get the spit over the fire. The girls holds it in place as proudly as though it were a banner in a parade.

Mikleo cuts the cheese into small pieces and separates the leaves of the salad they found. Sorey remains sitting next to him, fidgeting for the most part since he is unable to help.

"Am I doing this right?" the girl asks suddenly. Mikleo and Sorey both look up, and Sorey throws a cursory glance at the spit.

"It's a little too close," he says.

"A little too close," Mikleo parrots. "Move it out a little bit."

She nods and moves it further away. Then she looks at him for confirmation. "Like this?"

Sorey shakes his head. "That's a bit too much."

Mikleo, distracted by some dirt on a salad leaf, echoes him. "Too much. Move it a little bit closer."

The spit moves, and the girl looks at him oddly.

"You must be quite skilled at this," she says. Mikleo looks up.

"Hm?" The remark surprises him, as he has never before in his life been accused of such a thing as being skilled at cooking.

"This," she gestures with the spit. "You barely even looked up, and yet you knew it was too far away. I'm impressed."

Mikleo swallows. Suddenly his heart is beating just a little bit faster.

"Oh, that. I just..." He makes a useless gesture with the salad leaf. "I made that mistake a lot as a kid, and so it's easy for me to recognise."

She considers this, and appears to accept it. "Did your parents teach you?" she asks.

"I-I..." Mikleo stutters. "I don't really... have any."

The silence quickly becomes awkward. Mikleo clears his throat.

"My grandfather taught me," he says. "He, uh, he had a farm."

She hesitates to ask for a moment, but then she risks it. "And what of your parents?"

He sighs lightly, and he tells the truth when he says "I don't really know."

He shrugs with the admission. In truth, he has never really asked what happened to his parents. He knows that they died. The details of how is not so much interesting as an unsettling prospect to know. He is not sure that he wants to.

The girl tilts her head, the corners of her mouth curving with her sympathy.

"I'm sorry," she says.

Mikleo hesitates. It is not something he has thought about for some time now.

Sorey shifts a litttle closer to him. Support and solidarity without saying a word. It is not an uncommon thing between them.

"Thanks," Mikleo says awkwardly. She nods her head.

"If it helps anything," she says, turning her attention back to the spit. "My mother died when I was a child, and my mentor told me something to comfort me about it. She said that those who are gone have gone to join the seraphim, in order to continue watching over us.

Mikleo and Sorey both stare at her. She shrinks under Mikleo's gaze.

"I mean," she begins, but Mikleo interrupts her. He cannot let her retreat into calling it a story again. It is becoming upsetting at this point, having the existence of his family dismissed at every turn of the conversation.

"No, it's..." He shakes his head. "That's a nice thought. It just surprised me, is all."

Sorey looks torn between fascination and sadness, his eyes taking in the full form of the girl as if for the first time.

"Great," he says, and there is too little of his intended sarcasm, "Now I'm a ghost."

Mikleo very subtly shifts the salad bowl to the side of his lap. Using it as a cover, he slowly moves his hand to lay comfortingly on Sorey's thigh. Support for support, an exchange between them. His words address the girl.

"Suppose that they are then," he says, fascinated at the existence of such a legend. Seraphim truly must be impressive to humans if they inspire such belief. "The best place to look for them then would be here, no? What better place than in a shrine of the seraphim?"

It has the desired effect. The girl smiles gently.

"That is a good point. I suppose they could be here right now, watching over us."

"I'll go so far as to say they probably are." Mikleo smiles. It becomes a little wider, involuntarily, when Sorey squeezes his hip.

"Dork," Sorey mutters, but he seems to have cheered up well enough. Mikleo tries to grab at his hand, but Sorey pulls it out of reach too quickly. He gets another poke in before Mikleo can catch him.

Mikleo instinctively reaches out to poke him back, only to stop midway as the girl looks at him oddly.

"What are you doing?" she asks. Mikleo makes a show of appearing nonchalant.

"Oh, nothing." He reaches quickly for the nearest thing, which happens to be a book. "Just wanted to check the recipe for the salad again."

"Okay...?" she stares for a moment, but then goes back to focusing on her task. Mikleo sighs quietly.

The book is actually about the cultural impact of the Era of Asgard on outer kingdoms, but the cover is blank and so he can pass it off without showing her the inside of it. He makes a mental note to hide it later, should she get the urge to check any recipes for herself.

"Smooth," Sorey snickers beside him.

Keeping a close eye on the girl and her spit, Mikleo very subtly elbows him in the ribs.


	5. Nobility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's in a name?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where things start to get serious. Check the tags if you're nervous. I'll do my best to keep them updated :)

Mikleo stays inside the house the next morning, while the young knight goes exploring around the shrine with Natalie and Mason in tow. He goes over what leather he already has and sews up the beginnings of a sleeping bag with it. Then he looks through his supplies for whatever food will survive being out in the open for a few days. He cannot show, much less share with her, the food he has which requires ice and cold to stay fresh. Unfortunately, this limits him to dried meat, bread, cheese, and some preserved fruit he was saving for a special occasion. 

"If there ever was one," he mutters to himself as he takes it off the shelf. 

She will not be leaving today. Not for at least one more day, depending on her injuries. Still, Mikleo likes to think of himself as very organised, and he knows that something will have time to be forgotten by the time she departs to go back to Ladylake. It is better to keep the things she will have with her close to each other, so that they are prepared when she wants to leave. 

There is something peaceful about the slow work that is pushing a needle though tough leather. It gives him ample time and space to become absorbed into his own thoughts. He is so distracted by it that he almost does not notice the door to the house creaking as it opens. 

He looks up to see Sorey standing in the open doorway, the sun on his back and his face half shaded. It is a hot day, so Mikleo has not started the fire. As a result, it is pleasantly cool but also mostly dark in the house. There is just enough light for Mikleo to be able to see what he is doing. 

Sorey smiles at the sight of Mikleo, sat on the wool carpet with a clustering of foods and materials spread around him. 

"I would have guessed you'd be out with our guest," he says. He steps inside and leaves the door open so that some more light can come in with him. 

"I thought I'd get things ready for when she wants to go." Mikleo pushes the needle halfway through the seam and leaves it there, putting down his work to give Sorey his full attention. 

"You do like to be prepared." Sorey sweeps some leather to the side and sits down next to Mikleo. He looks amused at the mess that Mikleo has managed to cause. He knows that Mikleo will have it all gathered and arranged into a neat pile once he finishes with the leather. It is interesting to see the process all the same. 

"Is she out there alone?" he asks. Mikleo's mouth twitches. 

"Natalie and Mason are probably still trailing after her, so no." Sorey smiles. It is an amusing thought. 

"I'm hoping she won't be back for a bit longer then," he says. "See, I have something for you."

"Oh?" Mikleo raises an eyebrow. Sorey's looks giddy with the thought. He reaches into his tunic and produces what looks like some crumpled white cloth. Frowning, he unfolds it with careful movements. 

Mikleo tries to keep his expression neutral when he realises what it is. The fabric is noticeably cleaner, the beads pristine and shiny.

"The shepherd's glove," he says.

"From the ruins." Sorey straightens out some wrinkles in it and presents it proudly to him. "I asked Natalie if she could wash it for you, since you were so worried about it."

While that was the truth, that was not the whole reason Mikleo did not want to take the glove in the ruins. It also had to do with it being a revered and precious artifact which he felt in no way worthy of putting on his person. He takes it from Sorey and holds it with both hands, as though it is otherwise going to grow wings and flutter away from him. 

"It's gorgeous," he says, running his thumb over the pristine print of the shepherd's symbol. The sapphires attached to the wrist look even more pure and shiny. It truly is a beautiful piece of artwork. Someone must have been very proud of it. 

"Well?" Sorey says. "Wanna try it now?"

MIkleo looks up at him, opening his mouth and finding nothing within himself to say. 

"Sorey..."

"What's wrong?" Sorey asks. He has caught on to his mood, and now he tilts his head in concern. Mikleo shakes his head.

"It's just..." He holds it up to the light from the doorway, letting it hit the sapphires and split into beautiful beams of blue that shine on the stone floor. "It's such an important thing, you know? I'm just not sure I'm..."

Sorey watches him as the sentence trails off. He is silent for a moment, thinking. Then he reaches out and plucks the glove from Mikleo's hand. 

"This was a shepherd's, right?" he asks as he rights the strap which holds the sapphires. Mikleo nods, unsure why he is asking a question they both know the answer to. They have seen that symbol hundreds of times, in dozens of texts and books. 

"So it's something only a brave and righteous warrior is worthy of, no?" Sorey asks with a glint in his eye. Mikleo is very suddenly aware of where this is going, and he does not like the turn it has taken. 

"No," he says. "Stop."

"Mikleo," Sorey says, looking him in the eyes very earnestly. Mikleo hates that look. It is because of that look that he once ended up climbing the outside of the Mt Mabinogio ruins to explore further than they had ever gone. He is still somewhat afraid of heights, but his friendship with Sorey is gradually killing that fear. It simply does not have the room to develop, as there is too much exploration to do. 

"You are brave," Sorey says, taking a hold of Mikleo's left wrist. "You are always adamant about setting every little thing right." He grins as Mikleo raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him. "And you are always the last to tap out of sparring, even when I have you pinned on the ground. Really, the only thing you're missing to be a shepherd is the power of purification."

"I assure you, I'm missing a lot more than that," Mikleo retorts, but there is a point where he stops fighting. He lets Sorey slip the glove onto his hand. It fits him well enough. A little bit loose, but not enough to slip off. He holds his hand up to get a good view of it, marveling at the sight of the shepherd's mark on himself. It looks to be painfully out of place.

"Look, you don't have to wear it all the time," Sorey amends. "I just wanted to see how it looks on you."

"And?" Mikleo asks, reluctantly amused. 

"Every bit as handsome as I predicted," Sorey says, prompting Mikleo to smack him lightly on the shoulder. He does it with his right hand, but the left is still jostled, making the sapphires shift and clink softly against each other. 

"Dork," he says, and Sorey laughs. He turns his hand over, examining it from every angle. It is very comfortable, molding easily to his movement. Surely it was intended for frequent and prolonged use. 

Sorey lets him do it for a long moment, practically vibrating with excitement. Once that moment is past, he cracks. 

"Well?"

"Well what?" Mikleo looks confused. Sorey makes a gesture that must be obvious to him, but it does little for Mikleo. 

"Well," he smiles. "Say something shepherdly."

Mikleo blinks. His mouth twitches, dangerously close to laughter. 

"Pretty sure that's not a word."

Sorey does not budge. "You're stalling."

Mikleo rolls his eyes. 

"Fine. What would you like to hear?"

Sorey stands up, pulling Mikleo with him by the hand. He straightens out Mikleo's shirt over his shoulders as he speaks. 

"I don't know. Something heroic. Something strong. I mean, don't shepherds have loyal seraphim at their sides?"

Mikleo raises an eyebrow. Sorey smiles, mischievous. 

"Command me, Shepherd Mikleo. Make me do your bidding."

Mikleo blinks. A frankly impressive amount of jokes passes through his thoughts. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. 

Sorey looks every bit the ceremonial seraph, stoic and regal with his back straight. Awaiting his orders. Mikleo may as well respond in kind. 

Feeling more than a little silly, he puffs up his chest, trying to look impressive.

"Very well then," He says airily. He looks around the room for inspiration. 

"Go get me that cup over there." He points towards a shelf in the other end of the room. 

Sorey tilts his head, unimpressed. 

"Really? That's your best?"

Mikleo crosses his arms. He fixes Sorey with a blank stare, the likes of which only a noble in a storybook could accomplish. 

"Fine, then." He holds out a perfectly straight arm and points delicately. 

"Get me the cup," he commands sternly, his expression artfully indifferent. Sorey nods, satisfied. He goes to retrieve it with a gait that is perfectly between rushed and elegant. 

"My shepherd." He offers it and bows his head. Mikleo takes it, turning it over in his hands like a precious artifact. 

They look each other in the eyes, just for a moment. That is all it takes to break character and tip them into laughter. 

Mikleo covers his smile with his hand. He shakes his head at their antics. 

"Alright," he chuckles. "That's enough fun for one day." He gives the cup back to Sorey. 

"Put this back. There's enough of a mess already. If you go see how our guest is doing, I'll finish the sewing and then get started on lunch."

Sorey smirks teasingly. "You sure you don't need any help? I know how you are with cooking."

"It's just bread, you living annoyance." He waves a dismissive hand over his shoulder as he rifles through the pile. "Now go. I don't entirely trust her not to go too close to the edge. From what I've seen, she seems as reckless as you."

Sorey pokes him, just a light tap on the back of his neck, and a small electric shock nips at his skin like an insect bite. He yelps and immediately strikes out to retaliate.

Sorey skips easily out of reach, laughing all the way out the door.

* * *

"Can I ask you a question?" the knight asks. She sits in Mikleo's house, nibbling delicately on a piece of bread with goat cheese on it. Mikleo sits across from her and next to Sorey, taking more generous bites out of his own piece. 

"Sure," he says. It is fascinating how at ease he feels around her after just a few days. Her willingness to leave the spear in his house for her time there helps a great deal. They have also found their way to more easily managed conversation topics. Most often, they land on the Celestial Record and continue from there. 

It has been some time since he spoke to anyone but Sorey about the book in such an eager fashion. The other seraphim simply do not see the appeal as much as the two of them do. Mikleo suspects, and has for some time, that it has to do with them having lived through most of the events depicted in it. It is not an interesting mystery the way it is for the boys, who are only eighteen years old, but simply events that passed them by when they were younger. It is just another fact that makes his family all the more impressive to him. He is deeply and warmly proud of them. 

"What's this place called?" the girl asks. 

A simple enough question, and no risk in answering. "Elysia. The mountain is called Mount Mabinogio, but that's the name of the village."

"Oh." She looks down, her brows furrowing. Mikleo looks up briefly. 

"Something wrong?" He puts down the sandwich and goes to pour some water for himself. His supply has recently been refilled, courtesy of a visit from Medea earlier in the day, and it tastes as fresh as an untouched spring. Medea left some ice in it as well, to make sure that it would remain cool.

"No, I don't think so," the girl replies. "I think I just had an outdated map when I came here. I was looking for a village called Camlann."

Mikleo frowns. A brief glance at Sorey gives him no more than a shrug.

"I can't help you there, I'm afraid," Mikleo says. "It's been Elysia for as long as I can remember, and there are no other villages around."

She considers this, then shakes her head.

"I suppose it doesn't matter. I found what I was looking for anyway." She takes a bite and chews with an air of satisfaction. It looks endearing on her delicate face. 

"What, the village?" Mikleo raises his eyebrows, mischievous. "Goats?"

"The shrine," she says, glaring playfully. "Even if I don't see any seraphim around, it is nice to know of its existence."

Mikleo shrugs his shoulders, amused. "It is a nice enough place, if you don't wander too close to the edge of the mountain. Or too close to the goats."

She winces on his behalf. "I'm guessing there's a story there?"

"And a painful one at that." His hand drifts absently to his left hip. "It still aches a little bit on rainy days."

She looks appropriately sympathetic. Mikleo waves it off. 

"I have a question too," he says. She nods.

"If I can, I'll be happy to answer."

Mikleo puts down his sandwich and picks up his cup of water. "What's Ladylake like?" he asks, tipping it to his lips. He tries to look nonchalant, but he is pretty sure it is a wasted effort. Much like Sorey, he is near bursting with curiosity. 

They have a few books which deal with the geography and royal line of both Hyland and the bordering Pendrago. Dusty yellowing pages that tell them a lot about what was, but truly nothing about how the world around them is now. The Celestial Record is guilty of this as well. The opportunity that the girl presents in answering their questions is as exciting as the prospect of a whole new wing of the nearby ruins. It has been some time since they found such interesting means of getting new information.

She tilts her head, and for a moment he sees the same genuine curiosity reflected in her eyes. Perhaps, he thinks, he presents a novelty in himself as well. 

"It is a lovely city," she says honestly, with only the smallest tinge of pride. "Beautiful aqueducts and smooth clean streets. It is a city that runs on water, with waterwheels and baths in many corners of it. They are the main part of how the city sustains itself."

"The lake it rests on runs through the city as though it were the blood in its veins. The architecture is rich and detailed, and few of the buildings are plain in any way. The royal palace stands as a jewel in its crown, above all the rest of the city."

"It sounds beautiful," Mikeo says honestly. An inconspicuous glance tells him that Sorey is engrossed in the description in much the same way as himself. "A city that runs on water, huh?"

"On it, on top of it." She smiles. "It is our lifeblood and our livelihood, and we are proud of it."

Mikleo knows the thought on Sorey's mind. It is on his own as well. 

"Is it true that the name is based on a legend?"

She looks at him, her eyes glittering. "Yes. The Lady of the Lake was supposedly a warm-hearted spirit that protected us in bad times. The people are quite fond of the legend."

"A spirit, huh?" He sees his own excitement reflected in her. 

"I have considered it as well." Her eyes are bright like this, innocent and faithful. "It is possible she could have been a seraph."

"It does lend some credibility to your grain of truth." Mikleo nods encouragingly. She nods back, deeply thankful. 

"It is nice to speak to someone who does not dismiss it out of hand, even if you do not believe in them."

He works hard on it and reduces his flinch to a mere twitch. For a moment, he forgot the unfortunate aftermath of her very blunt question. In order to avoid discussing it, he changes the subject. 

"What about the Sacred Blade festival? Is that also a real thing?"

It is an event that is very prominent in their books. An age old tradition that smoothly weaves the existence of the shepherds into the narrative of history. He and Sorey were very excited when they first connected he dots to the finely depicted imagery in the ruins. It feels like an age ago. 

"Very much so. An annual tradition that dates back hundreds of years. It is a grand event, with much celebration and pageantry."

"It sounds awesome," Sorey says quietly to Mikleo. The girl continues, uninterrupted.

"Each year, time is allotted so that everyone that wants to can try to draw the sword out of the stone in the sanctuary. The one who manages is prophesied to become the new shepherd." 

The shepherd. The legend of the living bridge between two worlds, able to see and communicate with the seraphim, as well as use their powers as though they were his own. It is a grandiose legend, and one Mikleo and Sorey know well. From the way the girl speaks of it, she does as well. It is comforting to know that even in a kingdom where faith in the seraphim has faded, the legend of these heroes still persists. 

"The festival is actually happening soon," she says, and suddenly her gaze grows distant. "If we can manage to keep it up."

Mikleo frowns. "Is there something stopping you?"

She looks him in the eyes, a long searching look. "Do you truly not leave the mountain? At any point?"

Mikleo bites his tongue before he can say "I never have". Instead he says "It's my favourite place to be. I don't really see the need to leave."

"Not even for the festival?"

Her slight smile makes it clear that she is teasing. Mikleo finds no reply to that. She quickly retreats back to seriousness.

"The truth is that the world is a more dangerous place than it was before." Her eyes drift to the open door, the bright sunlight streaming through. "There are evil powers in it, and the people of Hyland are suffering for it."

The boys sit silently. The warm pulse of Gramp's domain feels much more prominent in Mikleo's chest. It is their safety, and the reason they know nothing of this.

"What kind of powers?" he asks quietly. 

Her profile has hardened somehow, grown sharper against the contrast of the light. For a moment, he sees in her the weathered soldier that held him at the point of her spear in the ruins. This time, however, she is not threatening. Merely weary. 

"Chaos rules these lands nowadays, more so than their governments. There are stories of illnesses, wild storms, even people bursting into flames with no plausible reason behind it. People are afraid."

"The weather conditions are getting worse everywhere, and crops are dying. Famine is sweeping the world, and now there are rumours of governments going to war to replenish their dwindling resources."

She picks up her cup and drinks slowly from it. Clearly, her mind is far away. 

Mikleo looks down at his bread. "I'm sorry."

She startles, as if just realising that he is there. Her mouth twitches, despite the blank look in her eyes. 

"I suppose you truly are hidden from the world," she says.

"I guess I'm lucky then," he says, his eyes downward.

A heavy silence falls over the two of them. Mikleo picks up his bread to take a bite. The girl's eyes follow the motion. 

"Your glove," she says. "That's the shepherd's mark, isn't it?"

He blinks in surprise, then hums an affirmative sound around his bread. He chews and swallows carefully, remembering the etiquette Medea and Natalie have so meticulously gone over with him. He rarely sees the need for it, living with only Sorey, but now it seems appropriate. 

"I found it in the ruins where I found you," he says, turning it over so that the smooth sapphires catch the light. 

In a moment, the heavy atmosphere dissipates in the face of her fascination. 

"Amazing," she says. Mikleo holds it up for her to get a better look. 

"That place is apparently full of surprises," he says warmly.

She smiles over the rim of her cup. "I guess you weren't expecting a person to suddenly show up in them."

"Not so much, no." He chuckles. "You made quite the find."

He is referring to her plentiful knowledge, but she apparently does not take it that way. She raises an amused eyebrow, and with that his social skills deteriorate quickly as he realises how that must have sounded. He coughs awkwardly, unsure of what to say. 

She seems to take pity on him. "Thank you," she says, and her smile is a silent laugh. Mikleo shrugs one shoulder, smiling slightly too. 

Moment passed, her eyes drift down to the glove on his hand with an intensity that makes him self conscious about moving it. It hovers awkwardly in his lap before he closes his fist and rests it on his leg. 

"It looks good on you," she says. "Fitting, somehow."

He looks at it too. The gold print takes on a dull shine in the light. To him, it looks wildly out of place. 

"Thank you," he says, strangely touched. 

She takes a bite of her food, chews delicately. Her eyes weigh him, or some decision in her mind that she wants to make. Either way, it looks as though he is the one being assessed in some way. When she speaks, she sounds nonchalant.

"You should come visit Ladylake sometime, see the festival. You could even try your hand at the sword."

That is not what he was expecting to hear. He laughs, a touch hysterical, before he can catch himself. He holds up a hand to assure her that he is not choking on food, because the noise that came out of his mouth might as well have been that. 

"I don't think that would work, to be perfectly honest."

She tilts her head. There is no trace in her expression of her previous amusement. Instead there is that curious intensity. Directed at him, it makes him squirm uncomfortably. 

"Why not? From my limited acquaintance with you, I've seen you be brave, kind, and virtuous. The true qualities of a knight, and I assume of a shepherd. Why would you have less of a chance than anyone else?"

Mikleo can feel a blush warming his face. He covers it up with a long drink from his cup. 

"You hear that?" Sorey mutters next to him. "I'm not the only one who thinks so."

Mikleo nudges him carefully with his elbow.

"Thank you," he says to her. "But I'm sure you have the wrong impression of me. I can barely look after myself. I doubt I'd be able to save the world."

Sorey laughs out loud next to him. "Really? Mikleo, you take care of the both of us most days."

Try as he might, he cannot contain his blush. He covers it again with his cup.

When next she looks away, he sticks out his tongue in Sorey's direction. 

Sorey does nothing more than smile and lean his head on Mikleo's shoulder, just lightly enough that it will not flatten his tunic. That way, their guest will not notice him. 

* * *

The whole village gathers to see her off. It is sweet of them, considering the fact that none of them have been able to say a word to her since she arrived. Mikleo looks over the bag once more before he hands it over to her. She nods gratefully and slings it over her shoulder. 

Mikleo is not sure of how he feels about this. Although there is a strong sense of relief at the danger of her presence being resolved, he also feels sad that he is leaving. As much as she represents the most rule-breaking he has done in his life, she has also proved a valuable source of information, as well as an entertaining individual. If he were pushing it, he may even call her a friend. 

These thoughts are all in his head as he watches her adjust her packs and double check her supplies once more. None of them will form words in his mouth. There is a moment in which she looks at him, and he looks at her, and neither of them seem particularly sure of what to say. 

She opens her mouth. He does the same. 

"I-"

"Just-"

They both stop. Mikleo puts up his hands between them. 

"You go first," she says. He shakes his head. 

"No, I insist." He gestures for her to continue. She hesitates, then speaks. 

"I'm really grateful for what you did for me here," she says. "I..." she looks down and fingers one bracer nervously. "I don't think I would have made it out of those ruins alone. Thank you."

Mikleo feels a smile growing. He nods. 

"It was nothing," he lies. "I am glad I did." That is the truth. 

At the end of this little adventure, he finds no regret at their actions. Only some gratitude towards Sorey for dragging him into it in the first place. Danger or no, it is comforting to know that there are people he can relate to. Who need to eat and sleep and breathe just as much as he does. Living in Elysia, that is sometimes very easy to forget. 

That thought almost manages to lead to some darker thoughts about his condition, but he brushes them easily aside. Now is not the time for them, and he will likely never see her again. That fact makes it easy to focus.

She takes a step back and bows at the waist, a gesture of respect that she has introduced him (and Sorey) to in the last few days. It shows great deference, more so than he is strictly comfortable with. Although, having known her for a few days, he attributes it more to her predisposition towards respecting others than any potential self deprecation. He is surprised, however, when she remains bowed for more than a second. She seems to be hesitating in this position. 

Mikleo is about to say something when she speaks. 

"Alisha."

His words stop short. He blinks. 

"What?"

"Alisha Diphda." She stands up straight and looks him steadily in the eyes. "That is my name."

A new emotion mixes in with the confusion. Something like gratitude, something like vulnerability. Mikleo swallows. 

"Alisha." He says it slowly, getting a feel for it. "That's a nice name."

She smiles, a warm delicate expression. "I wanted you to know it. I am in your debt."

He nods, hesitating. Then he says, "Mikleo."

Alisha's smile grows warm. "Mikleo. I like it."

She reaches out a hand. He takes it to shake. 

"It was nice meeting you, Mikleo," she says. "I look forward to seeing you again someday."

He laughs, nervous and amused in equal measure. "Right. Yeah."

She seems not to notice his uncertainty. "I meant what I said. Do come visit Ladylake sometime. I would love to show you around the city."

An offer as tempting as it is impossible. He nods. "I would like that. Thank you."

She looks around them, as if taking in their surroundings for the last time. She remains unaware of the dozen seraphim looking back at her as well. Mikleo is all to aware of their eyes on the two of them. 

"Goodbye, Mikleo." She squeezes his hand. He squeezes back. 

"Take care, Alisha."

With that, she turns and begins to walk away. 

Mikleo and his family remain, just inside the arch that marks the entrance to the village. His eyes stay on her until she disappears into the woods. 

Now that the show is over, his family is beginning to return to their homes. He turns his back and follows them. He has some dinner to prepare. 

It is not until the early hours of the evening that Sorey appears at Mikleo's house. He has been running errands all day, and regrettably missed seeing their new acquaintance off. He settles down next to Mikleo and begins to cut long strips of meat which Mikleo has prepared for his return. He will do better with cooking them than Mikleo would. 

For a moment, they work in comfortable silence. It is almost normal, as if nothing has even happened. Mikleo leans his shoulder against Sorey's. 

"Sad?" Sorey asks. Mikleo shrugs. 

"A little. It's going to get boring now, living with just you guys."

He is smirking before he even finishes the sentence. A poke to his side widens it into a smile. It seems that they will be able to keep the mood up together. 

"Good to know how much you care," Sorey says as he hangs the meat strips over the fire. Mikleo hums in amusement. He looks up to watch Sorey go about his work.

"Where were you?" he asks, just out of curiosity. 

"The ruins," Sorey replies. "Gramps had me checking if there was anything else unusual. He's getting worried for some reason."

Mikleo raises an eyebrow. "And did you find anything?"

"As a matter of fact." Sorey stands back from the fire and walks to the front door. His boots stand on the carpet there. He reaches inside one and pulls out a small blade that glints in the light of the fire. 

Mikleo startles. He takes it when Sorey offers it to him, hilt first. It looks to be made of something other than steel, something that feels unfamiliar to him. 

"Is this silver?" He turns it over in his hands, awed. 

"Looks like." Sorey sits down next to him. "A ceremonial dagger if anything, likely an heirloom. I think it belongs to our new friend."

Mikleo suddenly remembers. "Alisha."

"Hm?"

"She told me her name is Alisha."

Sorey looks at him, a sort of awed joy in his expression. 

"Alisha, huh?"

Mikleo looks up at him, nodding and smiling happily. 

"Nobility," he says, and Sorey grins. 

"Looks like our new friend is important." He nudges the knife slightly with his hand. "And now we have an actual excuse to visit her sometime."

Mikleo chuckles. He traces a finger over the engraving on the blade. The same symbol that she had on the back of her armour. The symbol of the royal family of Hyland. 

Whoever she is, she is more important than they thought. The thought is exciting. Not an ordinary knight, but a royal one. 

"Yeah," he says. "I guess, technically, we do."

* * *

Mikleo wakes up in the middle of the night. He is immediately sure, even before he opens his eyes, that something is wrong. 

It is an unusual feeling, but he has felt it before, and so he knows what it means. The warm pulse in his chest has been disrupted, as if struck with a hard chill. Something has disturbed the peace of Gramps' domain. Something is on the mountain that should not be there.

Mikleo knows what to do, and there is no time to waste. He shoots out of bed and pulls on his shoes on the way out. Nights are cold on the mountain, but his pajamas are warm enough that he can ignore that for the moment. His focus is on getting outside and finding out what is happening. 

It is quiet outside. A breeze rustles the grass and leaves all around him. Were it not for the stuttering pulse, he would not be able to tell that anything was off at all. When he looks carefully, he can see the silhouettes of his family exiting their houses and flitting into the night, quiet as birds taking flight. 

He takes off running. The search is on, and he wants to help. 

He makes it to the edge of the woods before his hastily equipped shoes begin to slip off his feet. He stops and leans against a tree to right them. A flash of light flits by him, quick as a blink. He looks up. 

"Sorey?"

A rustle in the leaves, and Sorey appears at his side. "Something's wrong."

Mikleo nods. "Can you sense it any better than I can?"

He shakes his head. "No. It's somewhere in the area, but I can't pinpoint it."

"The others?"

"Out searching. Gramps remained in the village to guard it."

"Good," Mikleo stands up. "Let's go."

They go into the woods together. Sorey is much faster than Mikleo is, attributed to his seraph nature, and particularly to his element. Similar to Gramps, he is more nimble and agile even than the other seraphim in the village. The two of them use it to their advantage, and he covers a greater amount of ground than Mikleo does. They come to an agreement with no more than a few gestures and words, and then run to search their assigned parts of the forest. 

For around fifteen minutes of searching, there is no sign of anything wrong. The woods are empty. They are also dark, and cold to the point where Mikleo is beginning to chill through his sleep tunic. They run into each other in an opening in the greenery. 

"You?" Sorey asks, and Mikleo shakes his head. Then they hear it. 

It is in the distance, towards the edge of the woods that leads to the ruins. A scream, and a voice they recognise. Mikleo feels his heart speed up and beat hard in his chest. That scream sets ice in his blood. 

They rush to reach it together. Sorey grasps onto Mikleo's hand and practically drags him, running faster than Mikleo can manage on his own. Mikleo keeps up as well as he can. 

At the edge of the woods is a clearing bathed in bright moonlight. A shadow sits in the corner of it. 

At least, it looks like a shadow at first. It moves, and turns to look at them as they approach. 

In the future, when Mikleo looks back at this incident, the memory will be muddled. He will not remember the details of the search, or the chill of the breach in Gramps' domain, or the press of his staff into his hands as Sorey puts it there as a precaution when they spot the movement. He will only remember the shadow, the horrible thing that takes shape before them in the pale light. 

If Mikleo were to be generous, he would call it a man. However, from the looks of it, it seems that the time for such labels is long gone. It stands a head taller than them, even as it slouches slightly forward. A perch worthy of a predator. It turns towards them, and Mikleo feels frozen in place. 

The word "hellion" echoes as if in an empty space in his head. It seems paradoxical to him, all at once both undermined by the mild stories they have been told and adding a terrifying reality to them. 

It opens its mouth, and Mikleo can only see sharp white teeth and glowing yellow eyes. 

Sorey makes a pained sound, and Mikleo's hand twitches to reach for him. Mikleo struggles to breathe in. All strength drains out of him as he realises what he is truly seeing. 

Clutched in its grip, torn open at the shoulder and bleeding, terrified beyond anything they have seen before, is Mason.


	6. Hellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains violence and gore, so if that's not your thing I recommend scrolling to the first scene transition (the line) and reading from there.
> 
> It should be clear enough what happened anyway. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It is as if everything suddenly stops.

Mikleo sees nothing else. His eyes lock with Mason's as his mind works to take in the extent of what is happening. Icy fear tears through him like a flood.

Mason is trying to say something. His mouth moves, but whether or not any sound is forthcoming is impossible to tell. Mikleo cannot hear anything. Not even the rush of the wind.

Mason and the creature are both covered in blood. Mason's blood. It seeps from a deep gash in his shoulder and darkens the white of his sleeve. The creature opens its mouth, and its voice cuts into the silence like a knife.

"How odd. I expected the mountain to be empty."

Mikleo looks from Mason to the creature and sees that its eyes are glued to Sorey. The realisation stirs something in him that coils white-hot around the fear and stills it for a moment.

"But it seems this place is just teeming with prey," the hellion says. He drags sharp claws out of Mason's injured shoulder, and Mason cries out as he writhes in its grip. He is dropped unceremoniously on the ground.

Mikleo swallows, and it tastes like blood. Cold air and too much running, coupled with the sight of it on Mason puts the taste in his mouth.

"Now," it says, coiling like a spring. "Who wants to go first?"

Lead fills his veins. He stands still and just clenches his hands around the staff. Sorey springs into action beside him.

"Get off him, you monster!" He shouts, taking a perilous step forward. His sword is already in his hand, and he gestures with the other. The monster's yellow eyes are still trained on him. There is nothing in them, no emotion besides a hollow, cold glee.

"You then," the hellion says, and lunges forward with such speed that he may as ell have been shot out of a canon.

It happens in an instant. Claws connect with the steel of Sorey's sword, and the lead turns to ice for that instant. Mikleo's body moves before he decides to, instinct and adrenaline taking over completely. He catches a stray clawed hand and deflects it with his staff.

Sorey has been pushed back several paces by the force of the collision, but he holds his ground. Swipe after swipe is deflected by his sword and redirected. He waits for an opening and slashes at the hellion's side.

The blow lands, but the armour he wears is too resistant for such a light stroke. Sorey stumbles backwards as the creature takes advantage and attacks again.

Now Mikleo manages to gather his wits enough to realise the conditions of the fight. If the hellion in the ruins was any indication, they will not be able to fight him off alone. They need to distract him, keep him stationary until the other seraphim of the mountain can find them.

That means not letting him wear Sorey down enough to lower his defenses. He needs to be distracted, and quickly.

He puts great force behind the first swing. An arte that Kyme once taught him lends him some extra strength. It is parried, as the creature turns with unnatural speed and catches his staff in one hand, but he was evidently not expecting that much momentum. He takes a step backward as Mikleo pushes, and Sorey has an opening for another quick slash.

Electricity crackles over the two of them, and the hellion howls up at moon above them. He turns on Sorey in a blind rage.

Sorey matches blow for blow, until a claw grazes his hand on the sword of the hilt. He cries out and stumbles backwards, and Mikleo goes in for another attack while the creature approaches.

This time he manages to stagger him. Still twitching with electricity, the hellion leaps to put some distance between them. This puts him near Mason, who lies prone on the ground.

Mikleo runs to Sorey's side. Sorey waves him off. He puts one hand over the other and heals as quickly as he can. Mikleo turns back to the hellion.

Again, a shock of ice to his stomach. He opens his mouth to scream.

"Mason!"

It is Sorey who screams instead. The hellion has Mason by the arm, wrapping a clawed hand around his shoulder to hold him up. His wide jaws are clamped around Mason's injured shoulder, blood seeping from beneath his lips.

With a sickening sound, he twists his head and tears a piece of Mason's shoulder off. He rears back and swallows without bothering to chew. Mason does not move.

"Mason!" Mikleo screams, and before he knows it he is up on his feet again. He runs, but Sorey gets there first. His sword bores into the hellion's side and a bolt of lightning crackles around them like an aura of light.

The hellion screeches, a sound that cuts their ears. Then he laughs, and it sounds worse. Mikleo jabs his staff into it's opposite shoulder, and the two of them get him to stagger backwards. Then Mikleo stumbles, and looks down to see Mason's legs near his feet.

His chest feels hollow as he takes in the damage. He hesitates.

The hellion rakes wide with a clawed hand. It catches Sorey, whose sword is still stuck and unusable for parrying, and he collides with Mikleo as it pushes him sideways. They fall in a heap on the grass, next to the still form of Mason.

It knocks the wind out of them both, and they lie coughing and gasping. Mikleo catches a glimpse of Mason's unseeing eyes - wide open as they were moments ago - before he pushes up off the ground and grabs his staff. He blocks the next attack with what strength he can muster from this disadvantaged position.

The hellion's face comes close to his. He stares into yellow slitted eyes and feels his strength waver. Then Sorey's hand comes up to cover them, and another shock of lightning illuminates the night.

Everything happens too quickly then for Mikleo to react. Sorey pushes the hellion away and he retreats, only to burst into vibrant flames in the next instant. Meanwhile, Sorey already has a grip on Mikleo's arm and is dragging him away from the violent heat.

Mikleo covers his eyes with his arm. Light spots flicker in his vision and his head swims. There is a sound like a stone colliding with metal, and then Mikleo opens his eyes.

The hellion is gone. Scorched earth and disrupted forest is all that is left, trailing away into the edge of the clearing.

There is no way it is dead. He knows that. His arms give way beneath him and he falls onto his back. Above him he sees the night sky, peppered with millions of stars.

Sorey groans beside him. He turns his head and looks at his face. Sorey's eyes are closed, his brows knitting. He is in pain.

It drags Mikleo out of his shocked haze. He sits up quickly and grasps Sorey's shoulder, turning him gently and looking for wounds. That is quickly interrupted when the quick movement offsets his balance and he almost falls face first back into the dirt. His stomach turns and he clenches his jaw to ward off the nausea.

Behind him is Mason's body. He will not turn to look at it again. That glimpse of wide empty eyes will stay with him forever.

A hand clasps his shoulder. He does not dare turn, lest he should dizzy himself further. He catches sight of blood on his sleeves, one of them sliced open by sharp precise claws.

It becomes too much. He turns his head away from Sorey and vomits into the grass. Lawrence holds him steady, strong arms around his chest. Sorey opens his eyes.

Their family is gathering around them. They surround them and block Mason's body from their line of sight. Medea and Natalie fall to their knees by the body. They speak, but no words reach Mikleo's ears.

A face comes into view, clearer than the others. Gramps kneels by them and reaches for Mikleo's arm. He can only watch as the wound on his forearm is healed shut. Then Sorey's tunic is torn open to reveal a shallow burn, which Gramps makes short work of as well.

Mikleo sways as he sits up again. His body is overwhelmed with the shock. He tries to say something, but Gramps silences him with a hand in the air.

"Take them home," he says to the surrounding seraphim. "Let them rest."

Mikleo wants to argue, wants to say something, anything, but the words will not come.

Instead he collapses, relieved by the safety of his ever vigilant family.

* * *

Getting home is a blur of colours and voices. Mikleo sees and hears it all as though through a watery haze.

Kyme and Shiron bring them to Mikleo's house. There they help them to change out of their torn and bloody clothing and heal the rest of their wounds. Shiron is muttering comforts as he goes about this task, and Mikleo is endlessly grateful for it. He can latch on to those words, whether he believes them or not.

Sorey refuses to leave his side, and he Sorey's. They end up sitting on the bed together, trying and failing to process what happened. Not even tears will come at this point.

They fall asleep with only a few phrases between them. Questions and reassurances - yes, they are okay, all the cuts and bruises are healed - whispered words that come out of pure routine.

Kyme and Shiron remain, watching over them until they fall to exhaustion, all adrenaline and strength having left them. It is an uneasy sleep.

* * *

Mikleo wakes up long before he should. The sky is still dark outside. It will be hours before the sun rises.

He realises quickly that he will not be able to fall back asleep. Fear and shock still coil tight in his stomach. The memory repeats again in his head.

Nothing like this has ever happened before. Therefore, he finds himself with no way to combat the overwhelming grief that takes hold. Mason is gone. The fact settles somewhere in him like a stone at the bottom of a lake. Mason who played with them when they were little and told them stories as they grew up. Mason who looked after them and healed them and covered for them with Gramps when they snuck out of the village at night.

If he were to get ut of bed and go two houses away from his own, only Natalie would be there.

Like hard cold hail these thoughts fall over him. They overwhelm him and make his breathing run short and shallow. He has never lost anyone before.

From there, his mind begins to draw in different directions, each more upsetting than the last. He will never hear Mason tell another story. He will never see Natalie smiling at him as he teaches the boys something new. Is this how Sorey will feel when it is Mikleo's turn?

Will he die like this? Frozen in fear and torn apart? Or will he become like that monster somehow? Twisted by his own humanity into something unrecognisable?

His thoughts stop short when a warm hand settles on his. He startles and turns to see Sorey blinking awake beside him. As groggy as he is, Sorey's eyes are grave.

"Can't sleep?" His voice is rough. His hand covers Mikleo's entirely, warm and firm. The comforting strength of a seraph.

Mikleo musters the words with some trouble. His voice is thick.

"Did I wake you?"

Sorey shrugs one shoulder. He lies on his side, curled towards where Mikleo lies on his back. One cheek is pressing on the pillow, his hair a mussed mess.

"Can't sleep all that well either. Keep wakin' up. Plus, you were thinkin' pretty loud there."

They talk as though it is a normal night, as though nothing ever happened, but the weight in their voices betray them. Mikleo weighs his words. In the window behind Sorey, he can see clusters of stars blinking in the distance.

"Sorey," he says, and now his voice is surprisingly steady. "That hellion. He said something before he..."

The words will not come beyond that point. Sorey nods his understanding.

"I heard it too."

For a long moment, neither of them says anything. All of Mikleo's thoughts and anxieties come back in force. He wonders what Sorey is thinking as well.

Sorey speaks first. "He's going after her, isn't he?"

Mikleo clenches his fists on the sheets. "Yes."

Another long moment of silence. Sorey gives up on sleep then, and rolls over to sit up on the bed. He switches the hand holding Mikleo's and rubs his face.

"So we follow her, right?"

The idea of arguing crosses Mikleo's mind. It is just as reckless an idea as taking her home in the first place. More so than most of the ideas that Sorey has suggested in the same flippant way. As though the outcome is naturally decided, and he is just voicing the inevitable aloud. Normally, it would not be so without some argument. This time is different, however. It feels as though everything is different.

"Yeah," Mikleo says. Then, because he has not yet lost all sense of self, "but just to warn her. We can't take on the hellion alone."

The events of the night have shown them that. He shivers at the memory of those cold eyes so close to his face. Swallowing him up, shining with relish for the hunt.

"Deal."

The word is barely out of Sorey's mouth before he is up and out of bed. He walks away and starts to collect things around the room. A bag by the door allows him to pack what they will need. Even as tired as he is, he is faster than Mikleo would be awake.

Mikleo wits up slowly and drags a hand through his hair. He feels drained in more ways than one. He watches for a little bit as Sorey busies himself. Then he too gets up and begins to get dressed.

Sorey finishes before Mikleo does, and when Mikleo turns back he is there, placing a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezing.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asks. Mikleo shrugs.

"Are you?"

"No," Sorey confesses. "Not for a while, I think."

Mikleo clenches his jaw to hold back the emotions that still roil under his skin. Sorey sweeps a hooded cloak over Mikleo's shoulder and clasps it under his chin.

"We'll support each other," he insists and rubs Mikleo's shoulders. "I won't let you get overwhelmed."

He tilts Mikleo's gaze up with two fingers under his chin. His eyes are soft and earnest.

"Deal?"

Even as he looks like he might cry himself, he remains supportive. This time, Mikleo has no argument.

* * *

They make it out of the village without much trouble. It seems that almst half the village is still out in the woods tonight. Even Gramps' domain is tensing in their chests in a way that suggests high alert. They are likely all out at the edges of the woods, waiting and watching for danger.

Getting out of the village proves a simple task. Exiting the woods will be harder. Mikleo relies on Sorey to lead him through the bushes, stopping and crouching low when Sorey does so. They both have the same upbringing, the same experience sneaking past their unsuspecting caretakers, but there is no denying that Sorey is the faster of the two. He has the reflexes, the vigilance, and if need be, the strength to drag Mikleo swiftly out of view. There is a close call or two, in which Kyme and Shiron have a few too many good instinct for the boys to properly stay out of sight. They evade as best they can, ducking and weaving, and hope that the wind will not give their position away to Shiron.

Once that danger passes, they find themselves standing at the edge of Aroundight forest. They stop there for a long moment, looking out at the open sky.

It seems to stretch on forever. In the late night, it is painted a dark blue, tiny pinprick stars winking through the thin clouds. The slope of the mountain spills out before them, endless and brimming with light like nothing they have ever seen.

It is everything, he realises. Their world, and they are going to see at least some of it.

Sorey looks at Mikleo.

"You ready?"

Mikleo has a lump in his throat. Gramps' domain hangs over them like a heavy veil. Safe, in a way that they both appreciate and yet find themselves escaping.

"As I'll ever be," he says. His voice is low, husky. Reverent in the presence of their doorway to the whole world.

Sorey holds out his hand, and Mikleo takes it. As one they take their first step beyond the borders of their home. The choice is made. The veil falls.


End file.
